Savagery
by DeadRich18
Summary: In the distant and savage jungle lands of Lizar'ik, an Algaesian elf infant is found and raised by its barbaric inhabitants. She grows, learning their ways and language. Believing to one of them. But when she is sent to Algaesia through dark ways, she is stuck in a land alien to her. Can this savage elf woman make it back to her home, or will she stay and help overthrow the Empire?
1. Prologue: The Hunt and The Discovery

**I do not own Inheritance Cycle it belongs to Christopher Paolini. I do however own the fantasy culture and the race that practices it.**

**I decided to write this fic because I noticed there wasn't one like it already published. And I thought NUTS to that, so after a lot of thinking I thought up a savage culture that would make anyone in Algaesia cringe with horror. Also After reading **_**Dragons**_** a crossover of inheritance and elder scrolls, I realized how lame some things are in Algaesia. So here it is **_**Savagery **_**hope you like it!**

**Savagery**

**Prologue: The Hunt and the Discovery**

* * *

Far from the land of Algaesia, across the great ocean, lies the continent of Lizar'ik. A tropical paradise, covered in lush jungle teeming with all manner of life. Coral of all colors and shapes form magnificent reefs in her crystal clear waters. Dozens of small islands dot her southern waters, and mighty mountains make up the _Serpent's Back_ in the north. A great chain of mountains, they form a natural barrier of stone between the jungle and whatever lies in the north. Dozens of long, winding rivers flow through the jungles of Lizar'ik, connecting and intersecting with one another, bringing life to the many creatures that live here. An absolute paradise…

From a distance…

Monstrous reptilian beasts of all shapes and sizes prowl the jungles of Lizar'ik in search of prey. From beasts so large they can devour a whole horse in two bites, to creatures smaller than a hand that can kill with a single touch. Giant, armored beasts with club tails capable of crushing stone, and swift-footed pack hunters with claws sharp enough to slice off limbs. But Lizar'ik's killers are not limited to the ground.

Terrifying creatures soar above the tree canopies of the jungles, their sharp eyes ever vigilant for prey. Patient ambushers lie in wait in the rivers, waiting for unsuspecting prey to wander by. Massive sea monsters, capable of sinking a ship with a single blow, patrol her deeper waters.

Even the very jungle _itself_ is a killer. Thick swamps dot the land, and dense foliage makes losing one's way near certain. Plants capable of shooting poison barbs, releasing toxic spores and eating beasts the size of cows, are everywhere. Most, if not all, fruit is either poisonous or covered in spikes. At night, the symphony of animal calls will cause the weak of heart to constantly look over his back, fearing the jungles many hungry residents.

But despite the unforgiving elements of Lizar'ik, there are those who call this beautiful and deadly land home.

The Liz'arin

A race of reptilian humanoid hunters as savage as the land they reside in. Split into three distinctive tribes made up of a number of clans. Each tribe has their own culture and every clan has their own traditions that follow the culture of their tribe. But despite the different cultures the Liz'arin people all follow the same code of honor and all worship the elemental spirits. They also all have a familiar, (a highly intelligent animal that is bonded to them for life) that's form depends on the tribe its Liz'arin is born into.

The three tribes of Liz'arin live in specific areas and their bodies have adapted to best suit their environment.

The Ga'goyle call the mountains of the _Serpent's Back _their home. Living high up, in the many caves and out-croppings that pocket the ridges of these northern mountains. The Ga'goyle Liz'arin are flyers; massive leathery wings sprouting from their backs allows them to ride the strong northern winds with ease. They have long zygodactyl talons for feet that allow them to swoop down and catch helpless prey, and are strong enough to crush bone and sharp enough to slice through iron. The Ga'goyle are renowned for their speed and are adept scouts, very few can escape their sharp eyes. Their familiar is the Drawk, a viscous flying reptile with a bone crushing beak and scale shredding talons.

The Naga reside in the warm southern waters and islands of Lizar'ik. Instead of legs, they possess a long, flexible serpentine tail strong enough to squeeze the life out of a shark and a venomous bite strong enough to paralyze a fully grown krogar in seconds. A pair of gills adorn their neck, allowing them to breathe in water as easily as on land. They live on the shores of the southern islands in half submerged huts carved out of large stems of coral. They are known for their silver tongues and unpredictable behavior. A Naga can be calm and disarming one moment and turn savage and blood thirsty the next; they are like the ocean itself in this way. They are the smallest of the tribes due to their very limited territory, and most of their clans are just small family groups as result. Their familiar is the Coral Serpent, a large snake with a venomous bite and bone crushing strength.

The final, and largest of the Liz'arin tribes are the Saurous. Strong, fast, determined and ferocious, the Saurous reside in the jungle itself. Unlike the Ga'goyle or the Naga, who have specialized themselves to fit a certain environment, the Saurous are capable of living in almost any environment. Be it in the trees, on the ground, by the rivers, mountainside or even the swamps, the Saurous can live in it. Due to the size of the tribe, a number of the clans that make up the tribe are large communities with their own set of traditions and rules. Fierce warriors and cunning hunters, the Saurous are known for their loyalty and unshakable honor. Their familiar is the mighty Dranther, one of the apex predators of Lizar'ik. They are a reflection of their Saurous counterparts in their ferocity and adaptability.

Due to their strength, numbers and territorial range, the Saurous have been the leading tribe of Lizar'ik for untold generations. The title of Rex (King of the tribes), has alternated from chief to chief within the Saurous clans countless times. Currently, the title falls to the chief of the largest Saurous clan.

Rex Turok of the Screaming Skulls clan. He earned the title of Rex during his blood trial. (A rite of passage ceremony). During his trial, he performed a feat of mythical proportion. He tamed an _adult_ Carnosaur, something that is only accomplished once every fifty generations. This marked him as a hero and prophesied mighty deeds. When the old Rex died, Turok inherited the position, and his clan moved into the capital city of _Liz'ara_. An ancient place, covered in large stone pyramids built by a long lost people ages ago. It is from this city that the Screaming Skulls rule Lizar'ik under the watch of Rex Turok.

But Rex Turok is a Saurous, and has a love for hunting. So, one day, he and his dranther, Swift-Bite, decide to go out into the jungle for a few days of hunting…

Little does he know he will find something more than just prey on this hunt…

* * *

'_The jungle feels off today.' _Swift-Bite told Turok, _'I do not like it.'_

The, Saurous chief nods his head in agreement with his bond-partner. This was the second day of their respite from Turok's duties as Rex, and the two were on edge. They had found no worthy game since they left and the jungle was suspiciously quiet.

'_It can't be a carnosaur,' _Turok replied with his mind. _'I hear no thuds nor do I feel any vibrations.' _He clenched his spear tightly and his tail swished back and forth behind him.

They continued their trek through the brush in silence for several hours until Swift-Bite stopped and began smelling the air. Turok stopped and copied his action, taking in a large sniff of air through his nostril holes.

'_Blood…' _Swift-Bite said, _'I smell blood.'_

'_I smell it too,' _replied Turok. _'But is unlike any kind of blood I have smelled before.'_

Their interest piqued, they followed the scent of the strange smelling blood, intend on discovering its source. The further into the jungle they went, the stronger the smell of blood became. After about a half-hour, they halted their pace when they heard something. A sound, unlike anything either had heard.

'_What is that sound?' _Turok asked Swift-Bite as he looked towards the source of the noise.

'_I don't know,' _he replied. _'I have never heard a sound like it. I doubt anyone has.'_

'_It almost sounds like a… distress call.' _Turok thought. _'Perhaps a beast was injured and is calling for help?' _He turned to look down at his life-friend.

Swift-Bite looked up at Turok before replying. _'Then it is a beast none have heard before, we should find it.' _He stated before moving ahead of Turok and towards the smell of blood and the strange call.

'_Why?' _Turok asked, only to receive an incredulous look from Swift-Bite.

'_Turok, this may be a new creature never before seen.' _He told him, _'and it might be injured. You are the tamer of an adult carnosour, the Rex of all Lizar'ik, and chief of the Screaming Skulls. I would think you to jump at the opportunity to capture a never before seen beast.' _He teased.

Swift-Bite was right, Turok _did _want to find and tame this beast, and perhaps it was another of the great achievements he would complete in his life.

'_Don't be foolish Swift-Bite,' _The Rex chided him. _'If I were to jump, I would scare the beast and make taming it all the more harder.' _He finished with a determined smirk.

Swift-Bite smiled and made a _hiss-hiss-hiss _chuckle noise before resuming their search.

As they walked, the smell of blood grew stronger and the beasts call louder. They were much clearer and to Turok, sounded like a mix of a mewling dranther cub and a screeching drawk. Suddenly, the call ceased, but the smell of blood kept growing stronger.

Eventually, they came upon a strange sight. The bases of at least a dozen trees were somehow shaped into hut like structures neither had ever seen before. It appeared to a village of some kind, only the villagers were all dead.

'_Now we know why the blood smelled odd.' _Swift-Bite stated as they entered the abandoned enclave. The bloody half-eaten bodies of strange creatures littered the area. Swords, spears and bows laid strewn about the ground, obvious signs of a battle.

'_I've never seen creatures like these before in my life.' _Swift-Bite told Turok, as he stared one of the less damaged bodies near one of the tree-huts.

Indeed, the dead creatures were strange looking. Curious, Turok went up to the body Swift-Bite was looking at and turned it over. He was intrigued by what he saw to say the least.

It had no scales, or feathers on its pale, soft hide and the only sort of protection it had from the elements was a mane of black fur on its head. It had a small little snout above its mouth and pointed protrusions were its ear-holes would go. He knelt down and parted its lips with his claws and saw that it had square teeth, made for chewing not biting. Two mounds of flesh sat on its upper chest; curious to their function, Turok removed the strange green cloth covering its chest to get a better look.

He was shocked to see that they had nipples on them, like those of a rat or a lemur. And on the creature's stomach there was strange indent in the flesh, its purpose he could only wonder.

'_Mammals!' _Turok told Swift-Bite. _'They are mammals!'_

'_Impossible!' _Swift-Bite responded, stunned by the statement._ 'Mammals never grow this big.'_

Before Turok could respond the shrill noise returned, louder than ever.

It was coming from hut they were standing outside of. Still more curious about the noise than the dead, Turok got up from examining the body and entered the hut. It was a mess, objects of all sorts were scattered about the floor, blood splatters were everywhere, but Turok paid little mind to that.

He zeroed in on the location of the noise, next to strange bed looking thing was an open top, wooden cage on stilts. And inside this cage was a white cloth and something flailing underneath it.

Turok slowly raised his spear in the air in case whatever was in the cage tried to strike and made carefully approached it. Swift-Bite was right next to him; his body lowered to the ground as he stalked forward, ready to pounce if the creature was a threat.

Turok reached the wooden cage and looked in, whatever was underneath the cloth continued to squirm, unaware of the hunter right above it. With his free claw, Turok slowly reached for a corner of the cloth. When he gripped it, he closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath before opening his eyes and quickly tearing away the cloth to reveal…

A tiny, flailing… thing.

Its eyes were shut as it continued to squirm and cry before it suddenly noticed the lack of cloth and opened its eyes to look right at Turok.

"Huh?" Turok stated with a cock of his head.

"Huh? (Baby version)" The little creature mimicked him in sound and movement.

'_An infant?' _Swift-Bite questioned, _'that sound we heard was an infant?'_

'_It would seem so,' _Turok said as he placed his spear on the ground and picked up the infant.

He lifted the baby out of its cage and began sniffing it. The infant just stared at him with its big, curious green eyes before suddenly sticking one of its tiny hands in his nose. He jerks his head back and his black feather mohawk raises in surprise, which makes the baby laugh.

'_Hehe, curious little thing isn't it, Turok?' Swift_-Bite said, amused by its actions.

Turok turned away from the infant to glare at his partner. The dranther just stares at him before raising his brown shoulder feathers up and down in a shrug. The feel of a small hand on his cheek made Turok turn his attention back to the infant in his claws. The baby slaps its tiny hand on his face again and starts rubbing it.

Despite himself, Turok can't help but smile, revealing his sharp teeth to the child. It suddenly forgets his face and stares dumbstruck at his teeth. Its trance only last a second however, and it quickly reaches out to touch his fangs.

Swift-Bite nudges Turok's leg to ask him to bring the infant down for Swift-Bite to inspect. Turok sits down on the ground, cross-legged and places the child in his lap. Swift-Bite immediately begins looking over the infant. He sniffs the little tuff of black fur on its head for a bit before sniffing the white cloth clothing on its pelvis. One sniff and he immediately backs away like he was stung as he swats his head side to side in an attempt to get rid of the smell.

Turok laughs at his partner's mistake, while the baby giggles along.

After recovering, Swift-Bite glares at the two of them before setting his eyes on the baby.

'_She can't be more than a month old.' _Swift-Bite says as he lowers his head down for the baby to inspect.

'_She?' _Turok questions as a frown found its way onto his face.

'_Yes. She.' _He deadpans. _'It has a female's scent.'_

Turok looked down at the infant playing with Swift-Bite's face. It was most likely the only survivor of whatever attacked the creatures living here, so leaving it here would undoubtedly kill it. It was either luck or something else that saved this small creature's life.

And there was something about her that Turok couldn't place, a feeling. She seemed to have a strange aura about her. Perhaps it was this aura that saved her life.

Whatever the case, Turok liked children, no matter the tribe, and this little creature was only a month old. But maybe due to its age or some other factor, the baby was not scared of them. She did not cower in fear or wail when he revealed himself to her, in fact she smiled and giggled like he was funniest thing she saw.

No, this child is not prey. She is a hunter.

Turok picked up the child fondling Swift-Bite's face before standing up. He cradles the child in one arm and picks up his spear with the other.

'_Come on, Swift-Bite.' _Turoks says, _'We're heading back early.'_

He gets no response as Swift-Bite quickly heels at his side before they make their back to Liz'ara. The child in his arms lets out a big yawn, revealing its toothless maw to the Rex before curling up in his arms and falling asleep.

'_I can sense your feelings, Turok.' _Swift-Bite states, _'What are you planning to do with her.'_

Turok smiles down at the child in his arms before turning to address Swift-Bite.

'_She survived whatever attacked her people for a reason, Swift-Bite.' _Turok explained, _'and besides, you saw how she reacted to us. This little one showed no fear, even when she saw my teeth, she just giggled and tried to touch them. No weakling would try something so bold, she is _strong_, Swift-Bite. Very strong.'_

'_Besides,' _Turok continues, _'Sa'gaza always wanted a girl.'_

And with that thought, the Liz'arin Rex, his Dranther familiar and the tiny creature in his arms, continue their long track back home.

* * *

**Author's Note: Okay! Prologue for Savagery done! This is my second fic and I really hope you like it I put a lot of thought into it. I am also still working on my other fic **_**Papa's Snowflake. **_**It's a BioShock Frozen crossover. So an update for this may take some time.**

**If your wondering what color the Liz'arin scales are and those of their familiars, shades of green that vary from individual. The same goes for the head feathers though they are not limited to specific colors.**

**P.S. THE LIZ'ARIN ARE NOT ANTHRO!**

**Please fav, follow and review, thank you!**

**DeadRich18 Out!**


	2. Chapter 1: Bloody Face

**I do not own Inheritance Cycle it belongs to Christopher Paolini. I do however own the fantasy culture and the race that practices it. Here you all go, the first real chapter! Hope you like, it was hard for me to write this one but I feel I did pretty well on it.**

* * *

**Savagery**

**Chapter 1: Bloody Face**

**Two days later…**

The Liz'arin city of Liz'ara was a sight to behold.

Scores upon scores of massive pyramids built upon a foundation of smooth, stone-brick streets, filled with all manner of Liz'arin. Running through the city is the mighty Python River; a water way that flows from the southern coast all the way to the Serpent's Back Mountains. This makes Liz'ara a hub for all three tribes in both culture and trade.

Rex Turok and Swift-Bite walk through one of the busy market street to reach their home. A Ga'goyle trading a large rock lizard for several fish from a Naga angler, several Saurous youths and their dranthers playing an intense game of tag, and a pack krogar carrying hides, meats and bones. These were just some of the everyday occurrences that Turok witnessed as he made his way to the city's center.

Due to the size of the pyramids and the large amount of rooms they possess, each pyramid is capable of housing scores of Liz'arin families with ease. As Rex, Turok and his family live in the city's large, central pyramid with the clan's high shaman, their top medicine man, the strongest warriors and their families.

Many of the Liz'arin he walked past recognized him and placed a closed fist on their chests as their familiars gave quick nods of respect. Turok returned the gestures by raising his spear in the air, while Swift-Bite simply nodded back. Thankfully, the child sleeping in Turok's arms was unnoticed by his clansmen.

The trip back had been a grueling one. The infant always seemed to be hungry, but due to her lack of teeth Turok was forced to sate her needs by giving her some of his energy. It is a skill all Liz'arin learn when they are young so that if they or their familiar are hurt or exhausted, they can share their life energy with them and re-ignite their fighting spirit. The trick worked with the infant, but Turok knew this was only a temporary solution.

She slept whenever she wasn't hungry, and both Saurous and dranther were happy for the quiet. Her small lungs were deceptively strong, and her cry was loud and shrill enough to make a drawk cringe. Thankfully, she only cried when she was hungry or the cloth on her was… dirtied. Why someone would put something like _that _on their child, Turok would never know.

He remembered scowling at an amused Swift-Bite, as he used a thick leaf to wipe the excrement off the baby and her cloth.

But there was something else. When night fell, Turok felt like something was watching them and Swift-Bite felt it to. Wary, the two climbed a large tree, and rested high within its branches for safety. The feeling didn't leave however, so the two rotated sentry duty every two hours until dawn, when the foreboding sense of being hunted ceased, they climbed down and continued their trek home in relative peace.

After much walking, the trio reached the central pyramid. Named Rexa'gula, it is the largest pyramid in the whole city, as tall as a small mountain. From its peak, one can view all of Liz'ara and more. Hundreds of rooms reside within its walls, many of which have rooms of their own. Like all of the pyramids, Rexa'gula's inner corridors and rooms are lit by white, were-fire torches that fill the interior with simulated sunlight. Spells, placed on these torches makes them go out when the moon is highest in the sky, and ignite when the sun rises in the morning.

As they made their way inside, Turok decided to contact Sa'gaza to inform her of his return.

He reached his mind out to greet his wife's; he met resistance at first, but it quickly rescinded when she recognized who it was. Sa'gaza embraced Turok mentally, expressing her love for him as he did the same for her. Her strong, beautiful voice enters his mind.

'_You are back earlier than you said you would be.'_ She tells him after the mental reunion is over.

'_I know,' _he replied simply.

'_Are you going to tell me why?' _She asks with a slightly demanding tone.

'_You'll have to wait and see. How are Draigo and Tail-Swipe?' _Turok teased her, changing the subject to their son and his dranther.

'_You'll have to wait and see.' _Sa'gaza teased back before leaving his mind.

Turok chuckled at his wife's attitude. Both Sa'gaza and her familiar, Bright-Feathers, were strong, proud females and had been with Turok and Swift-Bite since childhood. Friends since youth, their friendship grew with them until it blossomed into love. When Turok and Swift-Bite returned from their blood trial astride an adult carnosaur, they saw Sa'gaza and Bright-Feathers had returned before them. Upon seeing her, Turok leaped off his mount and asked her to be his wife.

She immediately accepted.

That was fifteen rains ago, and ten rains before he became Rex.

Sa'gaza handled the role of a Rex's wife as if she was born into it. As his wife, she is his most trusted advisor. Turok always consults Sa'gaza on how to best approach the issues brought to him by his people. And if he is ill or too wounded to lead, it will fall to Sa'gaza to act as temporary Rex until his recovery.

After climbing many stairs and turning many corners, Turok and Swift-Bite finally reach the door leading into their family room. Turok opened the door and entered, (with Swift-Bite in toe), and the two were quickly greeted by Draigo and Tail-Swipe. Turok's son and his familiar, (offspring of Swift-Bite and Bright-Feathers).

"Welcome home, Da!" Draigo greeted, hugging Turok's leg tightly, while Tail-Swipe nuzzles Swift-Bite's side.

His son's loud welcome jostles the baby in Turok's arms awake and she immediately begins crying and flailing her tiny arms in the air. Startled, Draigo and Tail-Swipe release their fathers and lower themselves to ground in a pouncing stance, both young hunters' plumages laid flat, as they growl and bare their fangs in challenge.

"Da, what is that sound!?" Draigo asks, cautiously eying whatever was in his father's arms.

Turok bounces the baby a bit in his arms to calm her, before getting down on one knee to show his son.

"This." He tells him, revealing the strange looking infant to his son.

Turok watches with amusement as Draigo and Tail-Swipe slowly move towards him. Draigo's red feathered crest raises high into the air as caution is replaced by curiosity for this bizarre little creature. When he is only inches away, the infant finally notices him and stops crying. Turok then gives the infant to Draigo to hold, as soon as she is in his grasp she starts squirming in his young arms.

"Hey-grrr, would yo- hiss, quit it!" Draigo growls irritably as the baby tries to get on top of him.

Turok and the two dranthers simply watch in amusement as the scene before them unfolds.

Eventually, the baby's upper body is above Draigo's head and she stops squirming. Transfixed by his small red crest, she begins petting his plumage with a fascinated expression, before bursting out into a fit of happy giggles and petting it more.

Seeing what she was after, Draigo suddenly began laughing along with her. He raises his crest up and down repeatedly enticing squeals of delight from the creature.

Chuckling, Turok removes the child from his son's head and places her on the floor. Tail-Swipe immediately begins sniffing the child, before trying to play with her. A growl from Swift-Bite however, makes him shrink back for a moment before resuming with more restraint.

"What is it?" Draigo asks, looking up at his father, who was watching the little girl carefully.

"I don't know Draigo," Turok states truthfully. "We found her in the jungle during the hunt. She's the reason we returned early."

"Who's the reason you returned early?" A strong, feminine voice asked from across the room.

Turok looked up from Tail-Swipe's face being tugged to see Sa'gaza and Bright-Feathers standing in the doorway leading to the bedrooms with bemused expressions on their faces.

Sa'gaza's salmon crest was much wider than Turok's own, but it was also much shorter. She wore a tanned raptor hide skirt, cut at her thighs to not restrict her movement and was held up by a cloth band, colored to match her feathers. A short sleeved tunic of similar hide covers her chest. A necklace of small animal skulls and bones hung from her neck. And painted on her face is a white skull and black circles around her eyes, on her nose and a thin black line placed over her lips crossed over by black lines to look like teeth.

The clan marking of the Screaming Skulls clan.

After a Liz'arin passes their blood trial at fifteen, they become an adult and are given the honor of wearing their clan's mark. The paint used is a special kind that only the clan shamans know how to make, it does not smear or wash away nor does it chip when dry. Turok wears this paint mask himself, and he does so with pride.

"Ma!" Draigo exclaims, picking up the infant, (who had been gumming on Tail-Swipes snout before being rudely interrupted) and presented her to his mother.

"Look what da found in the jungle! Can we keep her pleassssssee?" The young Saurous begs, holding the infant up to her.

Sa'gaza cocks her head to side with curiosity before taking the child from her son. A concentrating frown adorns her face, as she inspects the child for any sort of abnormalities, (besides not being a Liz'arin) Smelling her, looking at her legs and arms and checking the inside of her mouth.

"She doesn't have teeth." She deadpans, looking into her gummed maw.

"She's not like us, Sa'gaza, perhaps her kind don't have teeth when they're born." Turok offers.

"Hmmm…" Sa'gaza did not sound convinced.

"She was the only one alive." Turok states.

Sa'gaza looks up from the infant in her claws and stares at her husband.

"What do you mean?"

Rather than waste time explaining through words, Turok walks up to Sa'gaza, places his right claw upon her cheek and shows her what they found. The memories of finding the village, the dead bodies and the girl herself, flow into Sa'gaza's mind. When he removes his claw from her, she looks down at the infant in her arms.

The baby had been occupying herself by blowing spit-bubbles. She looked up from her work to gaze into Sa'gaza's yellow eyes. The Saurous mother lifted a claw, and popped the bubbles, inciting a brief giggle from the infant. Sa'gaza smiles slightly at the behavior before getting on one knee for Bright-Feathers to inspect the child.

"She still has no teeth," Sa'gaza reminds him, as Bright-Feathers gently licks the infant's cheek, earning more giggles from her.

"I'm sure T'nak can brew something for her."

T'nak, the Screaming Skulls' most skilled medicine man; his brews and remedies have saved countless Liz'arin from poisons, grievous wounds, and even the wakeless sleep. If anyone could brew a concoction for this child, it would be him.

Sa'gaza nods in agreement as she places the child on the floor for Tail-Swipe and Draigo to play with.

"Very well," she says. "Let's go speak to T'nak about this." She looks down at her son and Tail-Swipe, "you two will watch her until we come back. Understand?"

Draigo puts on a determined face and gives her a strong nod, (Tail-Swipe does the same).

Satisfied, the two parents and their dranthers leave the room to seek out the renowned medicine man.

* * *

Once the door closes, Draigo returns his attention to the tiny creature on the floor, playfully smacking Tail-Swipe's crest.

'_What are we going to do now?' _Tail-Swipe asks, doing his best to ignore the tiny sting that accompanied each slap.

'_You heard ma, she doesn't have teeth.' _Draigo says, _'that means she can't meat to get strong.'_

'_And what are _we _going to do about that?' _Tail-Swipe asks, raising his head off the ground much to the infant's displeasure.

Draigo grins mischievously, _'we're going to give her the next best thing!'_

Draigo runs into his room and grabs a cloth sack. With the cloth in claw, he moves his bedroll to the side to reveal a hidden compartment underneath, Draigo lifts up the stone slab covering it to reveal his secret stash of snacks…

Live mice

He reaches in and grabs a nice, big plump one, and puts it in the sack. Holding the closed sack with his tail, Draigo puts the slab back over his colony of treats and covers it with his bedroll, before placing the bag back in his claws and running back to Tail-Swipe and the infant.

When he entered, the baby was busy chewing on Tail-Swipe's tail. The dranther cub didn't mind, focusing his attention on the squirming bag in Draigo's claw.

'_A mouse?' _He asks with a cock of his head, _'she can't eat mice, Draigo.'_

Draigo doesn't respond, he simply sits down next to the pair and pulls the mouse out of the bag. Ignoring its squeaking and struggling, he bites off its head, chews briefly and swallows, then drops the still twitching body back in the bag. He places the bag on the floor for moment to pick up the infant and place her in his lap, before picking the sack up again. Blood already dripping out of it, Draigo moves the decapitated mouse corpse to the corner of the bag, its blood quickly stains the corner crimson.

"Come on, little one," Draigo says, holding the dripping bag above the infant's face. "Drink, it will make you strong."

A few droplets of blood splat on her pale face, making her instinctively flinch. As the bag is lowered to her she opens her tiny mouth open as wide as she can. When the bag finally entered her mouth, Draigo watched with excitement as she closed her mouth on the bag and began suckling out its bloody contents.

Draigo and Tail-Swipe just sat there, watching as she gulped down the mouse's life fluid with vigor. Eventually, she drank all the blood and stopped drinking. However, soon after Draigo removes the bag from her now bloody mouth, her face contorts into a strange grimace and she begins to gurgle.

The bonded youngsters become confused and worried that they did something bad to her.

'_What's wrong with her?' _Tail-Swipe asked worriedly.

'_I-I don't know, Tail-Swipe!' _Draigo responds, as he looks over the child in his lap for any sort of clue to her sudden behavior. As he looked her over, he put his claw on her back too quickly and the force pushed her forward.

_BURP!_

Both Draigo and Tail-Swipe jumped from the noise and their crests rose in surprise. They looked down at the infant, who was no longer grimacing. In fact, she looked very happy as she started pulling gently on his bone necklace.

"What are you two doing?" Dragio turns to see his and Tail-Swipe's parents standing just outside the doorway, looking at them accusingly.

"Uhhh, I thought she might be hungry-"

'_-And you said she doesn't have teeth-'_

"-So I put a freshly killed mouse in a bag-"

'_-So that she could drink the blood through the bag-'_

"-And she-"

"Hehehe, alright young ones, I believe we understand what happened." An old voice from behind Draigo's parents interrupted with a chuckle. His parents stood to the side with their dranthers to reveal Medicine-Man T'nak and his dranther familiar, Silver-Back.

His old age showed, he was hunched over, his scales were worn, his grey crest almost gone, he used a raptor bone cane to wobble around, and his claws were shaky. Silver-Back looked no different from his two-legged counterpart.

Sa'gaza went over to the trio of youngsters and gently picked up the bloody mouth baby, and brought over for T'nak to examine.

T'nak squinted his eyes and stroked his chin, as he scrutinized the pale infant. The baby, however just gazed at him with her big, curious, green eyes.

After a moment, the old man turns his attention to Draigo's father.

"You say you found her in the jungle, Rex Turok?" T'nak asks.

"Yes, T'nak," Turok replies, "She was in a hut formed inside the base of a tree, and outside were many bodies."

"Most likely wild dranther," the old one told them. "Her family must have accidentally encroached on a pack's territory."

"But I will say this," he continued. "You were right about this… this aura she has. I cannot say we have ever felt such a strange and powerful presence." Silver-Back nods his old head in agreement.

Now that they mentioned it, Draigo himself thought there was something strange about her. She seemed to give off a sort of essence he couldn't quite explain. It didn't feel bad, just… odd.

T'nak reaches his claw out to the infant to touch her. Seeing the approaching claw, the baby grabs it and with surprising speed, tries to put it in her mouth. The old doctor easily pulls his away hand before she can close her mouth on him.

"A fighter too, you were right about her, Turok." T'nak chuckles.

"And the issue of her-" Turok begins only to be interrupted by T'nak.

"Do not worry," he states confidently, "I know a brew that will give this young one all she needs to grow into a strong and swift hunter."

"Thank you, T'nak" Turok bows his head in respect.

"Think nothing of it my Rex," T'nak tells him, "I'll begin brewing soon, I should have five water-skins worth ready by tomorrow. When they are ready, I'll call for you."

With that, the old Saurous and his dranther leave for their own room to commence the brewing of what would be the child's main source of nutrients until her teeth came in.

Once they left, the infant let loose a long, high-pitch yawn and nuzzled into Sa'gaza's chest. The Saurous mother looked down at the now sleeping child and smiled.

"Ris'ka…" She says, petting the small tuff of black fur on her little head.

"What, Sa'gaza?" Turok asks his wife.

"Her name," Sa'gaza tells him. "It shall be Ris'ka"

Ris'ka, a name that translates to bloody face, Draigo thought it fit her well, considering she still had a lot of blood on her face from him feeding her.

"I like it!" Draigo states quietly, so that he doesn't startle her awake.

Tail-Swipe raises his feathers up and down quickly in a display of approval.

His da looks at tiny Ris'ka, and nods, "Ris'ka it is then."

He then leans down and pets her cheek with the back of his claw.

"Welcome to the family, little Ris'ka."

And so begins the new life of Ris'ka…

* * *

**Author's Note: Done! Man this was a tough chapter I put a lot of work into it, I hope you liked it. Also just so you are informed, Ris'ka won't be entering Algaesia for at least two chapters. The first few are to establish her life among the Liz'arin. But don't worry, her arrival is already well thought out for maximum enjoyment.**

**Also I hope my characters don't seem OOC, please tell me if you think they are.**

**Also, if you are wondering what a krogar looks like, they resemble the Aptonoth from the Monster Hunter franchise, only they're a little bigger.**

**Please, fav, follow, and review, thank you!**

**DeadRich18 Out!**


	3. Chapter 2: The Trial

**I do not own Inheritance Cycle it belongs to Christopher Paolini. I do however own the fantasy culture and the race that practices it. Okay everyone, here's chapter 2. I worked really hard and long on this chapter and hope you like it! And don't worry, Algaësia will be coming up soon!**

* * *

**Savagery**

**Chapter 2: The Trial**

**Fifteen years later…**

The rains came and left Lizar'ik fifteen times, and young Ris'ka grew with each one. Several days after he found her, Rex Turok revealed her to the clan, and announced that she would be raised amongst them as a Saurous. Many did not know what to think of this strange creature, some thought it amazing how this infant was the only survivor of a wild dranther attack, while others thought he should have let the jungle have her and that Turok was foolish to take her in. Turok then proclaimed that any who thought his decision was a show of weakness may step forward and challenge him for the role of Rex.

None stepped forward…

After the clan meeting, Turok and Sa'gaza brought Ris'ka to the High Shaman for inspection. The shaman's examination revealed that young Ris'ka was practically bursting with magical energy, but it also revealed something else…

Magic is a gift from the elemental spirits of Lizar'ik, bestowed upon the Liz'arin people millennia ago. All Liz'arin are born with traces of magic in their blood, it is what allows them to share energy and communicate telepathically. Some however, are born with more magical energy than others. And if they survive the Blood Trial, these individuals become shamans, the spiritual leaders of the tribes. These spell weavers can perform incredible feats, like shoot bolts of lightning, spew gouts of flame, and even summon elemental beings into this world. Some shamans' powers are so great, they can summon raining fire, or conjure deadly thunder storms along with many other amazing feats.

The shamans draw their power from their connection to the Spiritual Plane, the home of the elemental spirits. The amount of mana they pull from this world is limited, but can be quickly replenished when depleted. And each time a shaman drains his or her mana pool, it grows a little larger, allowing him or her to channel more magic before it drains again.

The shaman's inspection of Ris'ka revealed she had great magical potential, but someone, somehow had blocked Ris'ka's access to the Spiritual Plane with a strange spell, forcing her body to supply her magical powers with her own life-force. Not only was this method of magic using dangerous, it also stunted the user's magical pool, preventing it from growing. Luckily, Ris'ka was still young, so the curse placed upon her was still weak and the shaman was able to destroy it, lifting the barrier between her and the Spiritual Plane.

But even with the curse lifted, the shaman expressed his thoughts on her lack of a familiar. Familiars are a Liz'arin's other half and vice versa. Bonded at birth, the gender of a familiar will always be the same as the gender of the Liz'arin infant. They feel what the other feels and act as the voice of reason when emotions begin to cloud the other's judgment. So strong is their bond that if either one of them is killed, the surviving partner will almost always die immediately afterwards from the shock alone. Without each other neither can reach the life after death and their soul will wander the ethereal plane until it vanishes completely.

Without a familiar, Ris'ka essentially had a half-soul, and would never reach life after death. But Turok reminded the High Shaman that she was not Liz'arin, and they had no way of knowing if this rule applied to her people, before he and Sa'gaza left with Ris'ka.

Young Ris'ka grew very fast. When she was old enough to hold a knife, her parents started teaching her how to survive in the jungle. They taught her how to fight with unrelenting ferocity, how to hunt prey without making the slightest noise, how to skin and butcher her kills with speed and efficiency and how to craft weapons and clothing from the plates, bones, and scales of her kills. The High Shaman instructed her on the spiritual ways of the Liz'arin and how to properly use magic. Draigo and Tail-Swipe often trained with Ris'ka; they would also play with her and tell her stories about cunning hunters and ruthless warriors.

Several things became apparent as Ris'ka continued to grow. She was highly perceptive: her hearing so sharp, she could hear a snake hiss through the heaviest rainstorms, her sight so keen, she could pick out a leaf-litter toad hiding in the underbrush on a moonless night as fast as a Ga'goyle and her sense of smell was so strong, she could pick up the scent of blood from several leagues away. And despite her small, lithe body she was deceptively strong and swift.

This was made apparent five rains ago, when she and her brother came home from playing one day, and Draigo told their parents that they had been ambushed by several youths, who often mocked Ris'ka for her appearance and lack of a familiar. He told them how Ris'ka defeated three of them and their dranthers without any of them landing a single hit on her.

The news of her victory brought immense pride and joy from her parents, but the mention of the youths mocking her about not having a familiar was a tragic reminder of her status in the clan. While many did treat her with the same respect they showed others of the clan, there were many who viewed her as an abomination. They called her _"Half-soul",_ a horrible taunt and a constant reminder that she would never reach life after death. But that was not the worst of it.

The Blood Trial was beginning tomorrow...

The Blood Trial is a rite of passage ceremony, where Liz'arin youths become bloodied. Though it varies between the tribes, the basic principles are the same. Once a rain, all Liz'arin that are fifteen rains of age go out into selected proving grounds, (massive swathes of wilderness surrounded by large border totems) where they must hunt and live until they are proven worthy of adulthood. These areas are some of the deadliest in all of Lizar'ik, and only the strongest and most cunning youths have a chance at survival.

In the Saurous tribe, there are only four ways a youth can emerge from the proving grounds as bloodied: survive in its deadly confines for an entire rain, hunt down and kill one of the many ferocious beasts that live on the grounds, or steal one of their eggs or offspring and tame it. The fourth and final way however, is a nigh impossible feat that 99 out of 100 youths will die in attempting to achieve…

Slaying a dragon.

Dragons are the one of most respected and revered creatures in Liz'arin culture (second only to familiars). Their ferocious savagery, ruthless cunning, and incredible power are matched only by Lizar'ik herself, marking them as avatars of nature in the eyes of the Liz'arin.

Part of a pact made between the Liz'arin and dragons thousands of generations ago, several dragons would nest in the proving grounds and wait for a youth and his or her dranther to challenge them. Due to their immense power, size and ability, dragons would not be allowed to fly or use fire during the melee. In turn, the Liz'arin youth and familiar must challenge the dragon openly and not attack through ambush or use poison to win, and should the youth use magic or dishonorable tactics in the fight, the dragon will be allowed to use flame and flight to win.

If the youth defeats the dragon, he or she would earn the honored title of _Dragon-Hunter_. And if the slayed dragon had an egg, it would hatch and the hatchling would bind itself to the youth in a manner similar to his or her bond with a familiar; marking him or her as its rider. When the bloodied youth returns home, he or she would be made the champion of his or her clan; representing the clan during talks and leading its warriors into glorious battle.

But without a familiar of her own, Ris'ka would have no chance to accomplish any of these amazing feats. She would never become bloodied, or a fully-fledged member of the clan. She'd forever be viewed as a freak by the clan, to the day she died.

'_How can I tell her, Swift-Bite,' _Turok asked his oldest friend as he paced through the family room. _'How can I tell my daughter she can't partake in the Blood Trial?'_

'_There won't be any way to soften the impact this will have on her.'_ Swift-Bite states sadly, _'but it would be far worse if you make up a false reason. You must tell her the truth, Turok, no matter how much it hurts.'_

Turok breaths out a frustrated hissing sigh. He was so proud Ris'ka, she was an amazing huntress and warrior. She excelled with all different manner of weaponry. And she was so strong that she could snap a flailing adult krogar's neck, so fast she could keep stride with a speeding raptor, and her endurance was so great that she could keep running hours after the raptor tired and ceased.

She _deserved _to partake in the Blood Trial. More so than any of the other youths…

And yet she can't…

The High Shaman forbid Turok from letting Ris'ka be involved in the Trial. Even though he too believed her to be a fine warrior and huntress, (as well as a skilled user of magic), her lack of a familiar prevented him from allowing her entry into the proving grounds. And no matter how much it enraged and hurt Turok, he could not go against the High Shaman in this situation.

Ris'ka would be returning soon, she contacted Turok earlier to inform him that the hunt she and Draigo went on was successful, and they would return with fresh krogar meat for supper.

Draigo had passed his Blood Trial five rains ago by slaying a mighty salamander (the only other creature besides a dragon that can breathe fire). When he was inspected as a newborn, the high shaman sensed great magical potential within in him, so soon after he returned from the proving grounds, Draigo started his training as a shaman.

Turok's thoughts were suddenly interrupted when the door swung open to reveal his children and Tail-Swipe in the doorframe.

Ris'ka's skin had changed since she was an infant, her once pale hide was now a tan brown color that had a strange allure to it. She covered her lithe form with a long, brown, rectangular loincloth that covered both her front and back, along with a piece of brown cloth wrapped around her double-lumped chest (leaving her flat stomach and the strange indent on it exposed). A bracelet made of bones was strapped to her right wrist, a necklace of claws and teeth hung around her neck and strapped to her right shin was a sheathed dagger. The black tuff of fur on her head had grown long over time, and she had tied it into a long braid that hung from her head like a lemur tail. She was still small however, and her older brother towered over her by almost two feet and his broad shoulders made her look even smaller.

Draigo wore the black-eyed skull with the same pride his parents wore theirs. A leather strap harness placed upon his chest held the salamander's crested skull in place atop his left shoulder. Its scaly, orange hide was draped around his waist in the form of a loincloth. An iron spear-tail was fixed onto the tip of his tail. The necklace of skulls he wore as a youth had replaced many of the small mammal skulls with those of snakes and lizards, with the lower jaw of the salamander split in two and hanging in its center.

Slung over their shoulders were large cuts of fresh krogar haunch, ready to be chopped up into stew, cooked over an open flame or eaten as they were. But Turok did not feel like eating tonight.

Ris'ka placed her share of the meat on the floor before running up to Turok and hugging him. He returned the hug, but with less enthusiasm than his daughter. Swift-Bite walked up to the pair and nudged Ris'ka's leg, prompting her to look down, before kneeling down and wrapping her arms around him as well.

Turok looked down at his daughter briefly before turning his attention to his son.

"Draigo, take the meat into the kitchen and help your mother prepare dinner." He told his eldest child. "I… need to have a… a talk with Ris'ka."

Draigo's bright smile morphed into a concerned frown. He looked down at his sister before looking back up at Turok and nodding. He picked up the meat Ris'ka placed on the floor and headed into the kitchen with Tail-Swipe right behind him. When the heavy door to the kitchen closed, Turok sat down on the floor rug and ushered his daughter to do the same.

Confused, Ris'ka walked over and sat down across from Turok and Swift-Bite.

"Father?" She asked, her musical voice filled the room, laced with concern. "Is something wrong?" She tilts her head slightly to the left.

Turok takes a deep breath. '_No sense in beating around the bush.'_ He thought to himself.

"You can't partake in the Blood Trial." He said with as much strength as he could muster.

Ris'ka visibly flinched her head back in wide-eyed shock. "What…?" She whispers with pain in her voice.

"You heard me." Turok couldn't bring himself to repeat the order.

Despair and betrayal were clear in her green eyes as she stared at her father. "But… but why? Why can't-"

"You know why," Turok interrupted her, harsher than he intended. "You don't have a famil-"

"Why does it matter if I have a familiar or not!?" Ris'ka quickly stood up and glared down at her father, the sorrow in her eyes had turned to rage from her father's words. "I am one of the best hunters in the clan! You know it, mother knows it, brother knows and your familiars know it!" She yelled at her father.

"Ris'ka, please," Turok rose to his feet and tried to calm his daughter. "I know it's hard to acc-"

"YOU KNOW NOTHING!" She all but screams at him, "I have been mocked my entire life, and my only chance of being accepted is the Blood Trial!" She took in a quick breath before continuing, "why!? Why can't I partake in the Blood Trial, father?" She hisses at him. "Why won't you let your daughter prove herself in the depths of Lizar'ik's jungles!? Why won't you let me show those weak taunt throwers they're wrong!? Why-"

His patience suddenly snapped and Turok said something unbelievable...

"IT'S BECAUSE YOU'RE A _HALF-SOUL!_" He roared back, making her flinch away. "UNTIL YOU FIND A FAMILIAR YOU WILL NEVER BE LIZ'ARIN, AND YOU WILL _NEVER _TAKE PART IN THE BLOOD TRIAL!"

'_TUROK!' _Swift-Bite shouted in his mind too late to stop the words he spoke.

Turok's eyes went wide as dreadful realization flowed through his body, and he froze. Ris'ka was looking at him with eyes filled with shock, hurt, fear and most of all, betrayal. Her lower lip trembled as she struggled to keep a straight face.

"Ris'ka, I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean-" He began but stopped abruptly when Ris'ka ran out the room and into the hallways of Rexa'gula.

No sooner did she slam the door shut, the one leading into kitchen flew open as the rest of his family flew in.

Sa'gaza angrily strutted over to Turok and punched him across the jaw. He fell down onto the floor with a thud. Swift-Bite hissed his displeasure at having his partner struck, but Bright-Feathers silenced him with an angry snarl.

Turok rubbed his sour jaw as his wife fumed over him.

"WHAT IN THE NAME OF THE SPIRITS WERE YOU THINKING!?" She roared furiously at him.

Turok just looked at the door his daughter left through and uttered the truth.

"I wasn't," he whispered sorrowfully. "I truly wasn't, Sa'gaza."

"We'll go look for her, mother." Draigo and Tail-Swipe quickly run out the door to find their distraught sibling.

'_They won't find her,' _Swift-Bite tells both Turok and Sa'gaza. _'When Ris'ka doesn't want to be found, she won't be.'_

Sa'gaza simply looks down at her husband, her feathers raised in anger and her mouth drawn back in a snarl. They both knew he was right. Draigo and Tail-Swipe could search the entire city for a whole rain if they wanted to, and would still be no-where close to finding a _single clue_ to her whereabouts.

And it was very clear she didn't want anyone to find her…

* * *

Ris'ka ran out of the pyramid, through the empty streets of Liz'ara and into the surrounding jungle. Once she was in the jungle, she climbed a large tree covered in vines and hanging moss. She climbed high into its leaf filled branches until she found a branch strong enough to support her and cloaked by dozens of vines and clumps of hanging moss. She set herself on the branch and just sat there for a moment before she placed her head in her hands and quietly sobbed to herself.

Her father was right, as long as she was without a familiar she would never be fully accepted by the clan. She'd always be a freak, an outcast…

A _half-soul_…

She cried for what felt like hours, until finally she could cry no more. Sniffling, Ris'ka raised her head out of her hands and just stared at them.

Her father told her how he and Swift-Bite found her in the remains of a strange village, littered with the bodies of creatures that looked just like her. She had visited the village once, seen the strange huts built into the bases of the trees, seen the now rusted and broken weapons strewn across the ground, and she had seen the skeletons, picked clean by scavengers long ago.

As the memories of visiting the deserted village filled her mind, so did an old, unanswered question.

'_Why was I spared?'_

Ever since she had visited the place of her discovery, the question burned in her mind. Why did the beasts of the jungle spare her but kill all others? Was it the work of the Spirits? Did they spare her so that they could torment her by denying her other half?

Ris'ka looked up from her hands, and stared into the canopy above her, but within the sea of leaves Ris'ka saw a break in the green that revealed the star covered night sky of Lizar'ik. As she gazed up at the stars, Ris'ka put her hands together and brought them up in front of her face.

And then… she closed her eyes and prayed.

"_Oh, mighty Spirits of Earth, Wind, Water and Fire, I implore you: why have you forsaken me of my other half? Am I to die and wander the ethereal plane alone until my soul vanishes into nothing? Please, I beg you mighty Spirits, let have my other half…"_

Ris'ka continued to pray until she finally succumbed to exhaustion and fell asleep on the branch of the tree.

And as she slept, her mind became the spectral stage for a most bizarre performance.

_She could see nothing, yet she could see something…_

_She could hear nothing, yet there was a sound…_

_She could feel nothing, yet it was cold…_

_She could smell nothing, yet it was foul…_

_She was here, yet she wasn't…_

_She was afraid…_

_She was lonely…_

_She was only a _half_…_

_Then, a strange, bright light enveloped Ris'ka and everything became clear!_

_She could see everything!_

_She could hear everything!_

_She could feel everything!_

_She could smell everything!_

_She was all of her here!_

_She wasn't afraid!_

_She wasn't lonely!_

_She was a _whole!

Ris'ka woke from her bizarre dream with a gasp. She placed a hand over her thumping heart and took several slow, deep breaths to calm herself. She noticed the sun was almost at its peak as its rays pierced the moss and vines that hid her. The Blood Trial would be starting soon.

'_Not that it matters anymore…'_

'_I wouldn't say that…' _An unfamiliar, yet reassuring female voice spoke in her mind.

Ris'ka jumps to her feet and brandishes her serrated, double-edged iron dagger. Her long black braid flings from side to side as she looks everywhere for the owner of the voice.

"Where are you? Show yourself!"

No sooner did Ris'ka yell her command something fell out from the canopy above and onto the branch she stood on. Ris'ka quickly lowered herself into a striking pose, but stilled herself when she saw what was before her.

She was a dranther, but unlike any dranther Ris'ka had ever seen. Her scales were blacker than a starless night sky and the feathers that ran from the base her head to the end of her tail were whiter than any cloud she'd ever seen. She was slimmer than other dranthers, but her legs were longer and it gave her a sleek, deadly look. And her yellow, black-slit eyes gleamed with intelligence.

Ris'ka couldn't move, couldn't speak, she could barely breath. Right in front of her was a dranther of unnatural appearance, she had no idea what to do. But what stunned her most was that the dranther _spoke _to her.

Hope suddenly burst into Ris'ka's mind, and she did her best to control her thoughts before slowly reaching out to the dranther with both her hand and mind.

Once her hand was close enough, the dranther pushed her head into Ris'ka's open palm and nuzzled it with closed, content eyes.

'_Are-are you…?' _She asks, hopeful dread clear in her mental message.

The dranther opened her eyes and looked into Ris'ka's before confirming her suspicion with a nod. _'Yes, Ris'ka, I am Night-Scale, your familiar. The Spirits have heard your plea and seen fit to grant you your other half.' _The dranther answered her calmly.

Ris'ka just stood there for a moment, her hand still placed on the Night-Scale's head as the dranther's words echoed in her skull.

The Spirits had answered her prayer…

She had a familiar…

_SHE FINALLY HAD A FAMILIAR!_

Without warning she wrapped her arms around Night-Scale's neck and buried her face in her feathers. Ris'ka smiled as tears of joy leaked from her eyes and Night-Scale nuzzled her snout against the back of Ris'ka's head.

They stayed like this for what felt like hours, before Night-Scale snaked her head out of Ris'ka's grasp and looked at her.

'_I am overjoyed and honored to finally meet my other half, Night-Scale.' _Ris'ka told her with a large, toothy smile, _'We shall have many great hunts together.'_

'_Not unless we get to the proving grounds before the Blood Trial starts.' _Night-Scale pointed out.

Ris'ka's green eyes go wide and her mouth forms an 'o' as she realizes they only have less than two hours till the Blood Trial begins. Without a word, the youth and her new familiar quickly descend from the tree, and run as fast as they can to the proving grounds. They weaved through the jungle leaping over rocks, pit-fall plants, fallen logs, and dodging strangle-thorn vines, low branches, and tree-hole strikers, never once breaking their stride.

As they ran, Ris'ka talked with Night-Scale about how they should best hunt together. Ris'ka mostly hunted by herself or sometimes with her brother or a hunting party. She had seen how members of the clan implemented their familiars in the hunts, but because she didn't have one, Ris'ka learned to hunt effectively by herself.

Now that she had Night-Scale though, Ris'ka would have to think of new hunting strategies and adapt her old ones to accommodate her new partner.

After about an hour-and-a-half of nonstop running, they neared the entrance to the proving grounds. Ris'ka could hear her father giving the assembled youths a speech about how only the strongest amongst them would survive and earn the right to wear their clan mark.

He was just about to start the Trial, when the pair burst out of the underbrush.

"WAIT!" Screamed Ris'ka, causing all the assembled Saurous and dranthers to focus their gaze on the two of them.

* * *

**Moments Earlier…**

Turok and Swift-Bite stood right outside the borders of the proving grounds, and looked over the assembled youths. There were over two-hundred and fifty youths (five-hundred, including the dranthers) present, all from different clans. The pair could see youths from their own clan, as well as those from the Iron Hides, the Red Chins, the Night Stalkers, the Scalpers, and many others.

'_A fine selection this rain,' _Swift-Bite said. _'They will become great hunters.'_

'_The jungle shall determine that,' _Turok replied somewhat bitterly.

Draigo and Tail-Swipe had returned home just before the sun rose. As Swift-Bite predicted, they found no trace of Ris'ka much to the dismay of Turok and Sa'gaza. Sa'gaza and Bright-Feathers were still very angry at Turok for what he said to Ris'ka, and he and Swift-Bite were forced to sleep in the family room as punishment.

When the were-fire torches re-lit themselves, Turok donned his ceremonial garb before heading out to the proving grounds with Swift-Bite and several dozen warriors. A raptor skull head-dress decorated with large, colorful feathers sat upon his head, bands of teeth and bone were tied around his wrists and ankles, a crocalisk skull was clasped to his left shoulder by a leather harness strapped across his chest, small totems of jungle beasts hung limply from the harness and a raptor scale cape draped over his back.

As the Rex, Turok was responsible for initiating the Trial and informing the youths on the rules of the Blood Trial, and the consequences of ignoring them.

Several packs of raptor riders patrol the totem marked borders of the grounds. It is their duty to escort the youths that emerge as bloodied adults back to their clans, as well as kill any who try to escape the harsh proving grounds.

Two dragon riders also patrolled the borders of the proving grounds, but from the sky. It was their responsibility to transport the youth and familiar along with the corpse of the dragon should a youth slay one. The bones and scales of the dragon would then be crafted into armor and weapons for the bloodied youth to use during hunts and battle.

Turok watched as the shamans passed out pouches full of special powder to the assembled youths. If a youth kills a dragon they are to build a bonfire and throw the powder into the flames. The powder would thicken the smoke and color it deep purple; the pillar of smoke would alert the riders to the youth's victory and location.

As the shamans finished distributing the pouches Turok began the words of departure.

"Soon, you will all venture forth into the proving grounds." Turok announced, gaining the attention of all the assembled Saurous. "There you will reside for either one rain, you slay or tame one of Lizar'ik's mighty beasts, or… you slay a dragon."

The assembled youths hissed excited whispers amongst themselves at the mention of slaying a dragon. A quick roar from Swift-Bite silenced their chattering. He looked up to Turok and gave him a quick nod.

'_You're welcome.'_

Turok smiled down at him in appreciation before continuing, "only the strongest and most cunning of you will survive the Blood Trial. The rest of you will not survive the harshness of the proving grounds. But for those who don't fall prey to the dangers of the wilds, you will emerge from the grounds as bloodied warriors and hunters. You will earn the honor of wearing your clan's mark, you will be recognized as full members of your clans, you will be allowed to take wives or husbands, and take part in ceremonial clan battles."

He paused for a moment and looked over the youths once more before finishing.

"May the Spirits judge you fairly and justly." He told them.

"Let the Blood Trial be-"

"WAIT!" The unmistakable voice of Ris'ka yelled from behind the assembled youths.

Turok could not see her through the crowd, but he could see it breaking apart as she walked towards the front of the group. The youths whispered to one another as she walked through the sea of green scales and colorful feathers.

Finally, she made her way to the front, and as the youths parted for her to pass, Turok's eyes went wide and his mouth parted slightly in shocked amazement.

Walking at his daugher's right side was a _dranther_. But she was unlike any dranther he or Swift-Bite had ever seen. Her scales were blacker than night and her feathers whiter than clouds. She was beautiful, and fit Ris'ka perfectly.

'_Is that…' _Swift-Bite asked dumbfounded.

'_I believe it is.' _Turok replied, equally flabbergasted.

Ris'ka and the black dranther stopped a meter from Turok and Swift-Bite. His daughter stood tall and proud as she looked up at him with determined eyes that told him she was not backing down.

"I, Ris'ka of the Screaming Skulls clan, am here to partake in the Blood Trial." She spoke with clear confidence and unwavering strength.

Turok quickly collected himself before addressing his daughter. "Ris'ka, I told you that until you gained a familiar you would not be allowed to partake in the Blood Trial."

She nodded before gesturing to the dranther at her side. "This is Night-Scale, a dranther sent by the Spirits themselves to be my familiar." She said loud enough for all assembled to hear.

All background chatter ceased from the statement, leaving only the echoing cries of jungle animals.

Swift-Bite walked up to Night-Scale and sniffed her briefly before looking right into her eyes. The two remained motionless as they stared at one another for a full minute before Swift-Bite broke the gaze and looked up at Turok.

'_Ris'ka speaks the truth, Turok.' _He says, _'the Spirits have sent this black female to be your daughter's other half.'_

Turok did not respond, he simply looked down at Night-Scale with wide eyes.

'_My daughter finally has her other half…' _He thought to himself joyfully.

A wide smile spread over his face, and he turned to look at his daughter.

"Very well, Ris'ka." He spoke loudly for all to hear. "The Spirits have bestowed upon you your other half, and so you are now permitted to partake in the Blood Trial."

Turok saw pure joy flash over her face before she quickly hid it under a calm visage. She nodded and Nigh-Scale nodded and headed over to the other youths, who stared at them with wide eyes and open mouths.

One of the shamans walked up to the two and gave Ris'ka the signal pouch, which she took and tied to her necklace. With that done, Turok finished his earlier proclamation.

"Let the Blood Trial… BEGIN!" He roared, thrusting his spear into the air.

Both youths and dranthers roared with excitement, spooking thousands of birds into the skies as they charged past the Rex and Swift-Bite and into the unforgiving depths of the jungle. Ris'ka and Night-Scale were the first to make it past the totem poles and into the green abyss, quickly followed by every single eager young soul.

Soon, there was only Turok, Swift-Bite and the warriors left outside the proving grounds. The Rex looked out into the jungle one more time before heading over to his raptor. He mounted the large, two-legged predator and told his warriors to do the same. Once all were mounted, they made their way back to Liz'ara. The dranthers walked beside their partner's raptor with little worry, the beasts had been trained since hatching to follow the orders of their rider and not attack anything without permission or their rider was imperiled.

All through-out the journey back, Turok couldn't remove the massive grin plastered to his face. His daughter _finally_ has a familiar of her own! He did not worry for her, Ris'ka was the finest huntress in the whole clan, maybe the whole tribe. But Turok knew his daughter, and if there's anything Turok was certain of, it's that Ris'ka wouldn't settle with slaying or taming _any_ beast.

She would hunt only the most challenging prey…

'_Now that Ris'ka has a familiar and is in the proving grounds, do you think we can sleep in our room again? I miss the feel of Bright-Feathers' body against mine.' _Swift-Bite asked him hopefully.

Turok laughed loudly at his familiar's remark, he too missed the feel of his wife's smooth scales and soft feathers.

"We shall see, Swift-Bite," He told him with a hissing chuckle. "We shall see."

* * *

**Seven Months Later…**

'_Are we finally going to do it, Ris'ka?' _Asked an excited Night-Scale as the rainstorm raged around them, _'will we finally challenge it?'_

For the past six months Ris'ka and Night-Scale had been searching the proving grounds for worthy prey. They hunted from the high branches of trees, allowing them to survey the ground below with _relative _safety. The trees also allowed them to hunt with almost comical ease, and the two already had many kills under their belts.

Once they made a kill they had to be quick. If the prey was too large to drag up a tree, they harvested only a few bones and slabs of meat before quickly retreating up a tree. They had no worries when it came to finding food and materials. When they could not hunt, the two would scavenge what they needed from dead krogar, raptors, crocalisks and even other youths and their familiars.

Cannibalism is an integral part of Liz'arin culture. By devouring the flesh of another, the consumer gains the strength of who he or she consumes and they literally become one with each other. Liz'arin warriors and their familiars will often starve themselves before battles, so that when the battle is won, they may feast on their fallen opponents. And just as they would do with anything else, the dead Liz'arin and familiar's hide and bones are used to make armor and weapons. This way, even in death the fallen can still partake in hunts and battles.

However, there are strict rules towards cannibalism that must be followed: first, if a Liz'arin and familiar die of old age (rare it may be), they are not to be eaten, but brought into the jungle and buried, so that their strength is given to the land. Second, if a Liz'arin and familiar are slain in combat, the one who struck the killing blow gets first bite. Third, if a Liz'arin and familiar die in a hunt, they are left for the jungle creatures to feast on. Fourth, should a youth come across a dead youth and familiar they are permitted to eat and harvest the bodies. And fifth, should any family members of the deceased be close by, the second and third rules are over looked and the family is given first bite.

This aspect of their culture stemmed from early times. Back when the Liz'arin were young, and they had to take anything they could get to survive.

Ris'ka and Night-Scale were easily able to drag the dead bodies up the trees, where they would eat their meat and harvest their bones and hide. The bodies were not always intact however, many were either torn limb from limb, impaled by spikes, or in piles of dung.

They steered clear of the last category, the bones and scales would be too corroded by stomach acids to use anyway.

Strapped to Ris'ka's left shoulder was the top half of a juvenile raptor skull, held in place by strips of dried sinew, and the front of her shins were protected by bone shin-guards carved out of a Krogar's head-crest. And she wore the hollowed out skull of a Saurous youth over her head. A small section of the back of the skull was carved away for Ris'ka's braid, and the lower jaw was held in place by a special spell that allowed the skull to open and close its maw whenever Ris'ka wanted; this allowed her to bite without the skull helmet getting in her way.

Ris'ka carried a long, bamboo spear-shaft, with a barbed tail spike for the head. A long bow made from several tied together saplings was slung over her back, along with a quiver of a dozen tooth-head arrows. The striking claws of the raptor whose skull adorned her shoulder were turned into slash-knuckles; close-combat weapons placed over the knuckles that allow the user to slice deep into the scales of his opponent or prey. And of course, her serrated dagger strapped to her shin in its sheath.

One month ago, the two were woken from their slumber by the roars of battle. They followed the bellowing cries until they reached one of the few clearings in the proving grounds and were utterly amazed by the battle before them.

A carnasour and dragon, fighting to the death.

Carnasours are one of the few animals known to actively hunt and fight adult dragons and they do it surprisingly well.

Ris'ka and Night-Scale were completely enthralled by this battle of giants. They watched the two titans' battle for five minutes (though it felt like hours), until the dragon got the upper claw and chomped down on the carnasour's right leg and pulling it out from under the theropod. The carnasour lost its balance and fell hard onto its back, the dragon pushed down on its exposed belly with its right front leg to prevent it from getting back up. The carnasour roared as it struggled to break free, but the dragon was too strong and held it down. Then the dragon arched its serpentine neck back as if to strike, the carnasour let loose one more defiant roar before the dragon opened its large maw and engulfed the two-legged predator's head in flame.

The struggling intensified for a moment, then the carnasour went limp. The dragon then opened up its mighty wings and roared triumphantly into the night sky. Ris'ka could _feel _the roar it was so strong, and as it traveled through her body, her lips unconsciously formed into a smile and her eyes glinted dangerously.

The dragon was only a little larger than the vanquished carnasour, but with its mighty wings spread out it gave the illusion of greater size. Its scar-marked scales were a near-black red, it reminded Ris'ka of gore. Large, straight, bone-white horns shot out of the back of its skull like a spikey crown, and a collum of spikes traveled down its snake-like neck and onto its back, broken only at the base of the neck.

'_The dragon, Night-Claw.' _Ris'ka finally broke the silence. _'We shall slay that dragon.'_

And so for the next month, the two stalked the mighty creature, learning all they could about it. They tracked it back to its nest, a cave boring into the side of a large cliff, the entrance clearing was littered with the bones of its meals. They followed the dragon when it hunted, when it drank, and when it went for simple flights.

Then finally, the night came for them to challenge the mighty drake. A mighty rainstorm had pelted the jungle with water nonstop for three days, creating a cacophony of hard pitter-pattering. The noise and heavy rainfall, combined with the darkness of the night would provide them with a slight advantage… hopefully.

The two climbed down from the safety of the trees and onto the wet, muddy ground right outside the dragon's lair. They walked towards the mouth of the cave until they were twenty meters away. Then, Ris'ka issued the challenge.

"Mighty dragon! I, Ris'ka, of the Screaming Skulls clan and Night-Scale, my familiar, have come to challenge you to honorable combat. Will you accept?" Ris'ka yelled their challenge over the heavy downpour and waited.

A loud, echoing growl sounded from inside the cave, followed by a puff of gore red fire that steamed and hissed from the rain.

'_You are not Liz'arin, fleshy one, what gives you the right to challenge me?' _A growling female voice echoed in their heads, quickly realizing it was the dragon's voice.

"I may not have scales and claws," Ris'ka began, "but just because my hide is soft and my nails are dull, does not make any less Liz'arin in my heart!"

The dragoness slid her head out of the cave and into the rain. The rain hammered onto her scales as she inspected the pair with her large yellow eyes, scrutinizing their every detail. She then moved further out of the cave, (her large powerful fore-legs were now visible) and she leaned her head forward and sniffed Ris'ka.

She could feel the dragon's hot breath on her body, but remained still. The dragon then did the same to Night-Scale, before suddenly rearing her head back.

'_You have been touched by the Spirits, dark one!' _She spoke with surprise, _'I can smell them on you.'_

Night-Scale nodded at the dragon's accusation, _'this is true mighty one, I was sent by the Spirits to be this youth's familiar, for she was born without one.'_

The dragoness looked at Ris'ka again, staring her down for a full minute as she contemplated this information.

'_Very well,' _the dragon finally spoke, _'You wish to challenge me? Then so be it!'_

The dragon shot out the cave with incredible speed, jumping over the pair and quickly turning around. Ris'ka brandished her spear and lowered herself into a combat stance, while Night-Scale went low and growled.

The dragoness charged at them with her jaws open wide, fully intent on gobbling them up. Ris'ka jumped to the right while Night-Scale jumped left, causing the dragon to bite nothing but falling rain. Ris'ka acted fast, and before the dragon could lift her head away, she struck out with her spear. She speared the dragon right through the eye, making her rear up and roar in pain as she tried to remove the weapon.

The dragoness's front legs were too large to remove the spear however, and its barbed head kept it firmly in place even as the dragon swung her head viciously from side to side.

With the dragon distracted, Ris'ka put on her slash-knuckles and ran towards the dragon's back right leg. She looked to the side and saw Night-Scale go for the left one. The two leapt onto the legs, and quickly climbed them, Night-Scale used her sharp claws to hold herself in place on the writhing drake, while Ris'ka used her slash-knuckles to dig into the dragon's scales as she climbed up its flank.

The dragon roared in pain once more as the feeling of claws sinking into her hide reached her. She twisted her serpentine neck around and tried to strike at the offending youth climbing her leg. Ris'ka quickly removed her left slash-knuckle from the dragon's haunch and brought it down on dragon's snout at the last second.

The dragon pulled away so quickly, the slash-knuckle was still imbedded deep in her snout and she pulled Ris'ka right off her leg.

'_Ris'ka!' _Night-Scale cried out in fear for her partner, before doubling her efforts to get on the dragon's back.

Ris'ka held onto the claw weapon imbedded deep in the dragon's snout with all her strength. The dragoness continued to shake her head violently in hopes of dislodging the offending object lodged in her snout. During one of the more violent shakes Ris'ka shifted her weight and flipped onto the top of the dragon's head, once on top she struck hard into the top of her head with her other slash-knuckle. The dragon roared once more and instinctively unfurled her wings, spraying the rainwater gathered on them everywhere.

Ris'ka turned her head to see Night-Scale was on the dragon's back and tearing at the soft area around the right wing joint with her teeth and claws. Ris'ka returned her focus on the dragon she was currently on top of. She left her other slash-knuckle in the dragon's snout and the one she had left was the only thing keeping her from being flung off the flailing reptile.

Ris'ka spotted the spear, still stuck in the dragon's eye. She reached out for it with her right hand, straining her muscles in the process.

'_Almost…'_

Her hand wrapped around the shaft and with a mighty roar muted by the rain and the dragon's own roars, Ris'ka pushed the spear deeper and deeper into the dragon's head. The dragon roared in agony as the barbed head tore through her eye and further into her skull.

Then, she slumped onto the muddy ground with a wet thud, sending mud flying in a nova around her massive frame. When the dragon's head fell onto the ground, Ris'ka released her grip on the slash-knuckle and fell into the mud, exhausted and sore.

The wet earth greeted her with a wet splat, and for what felt like hours, Ris'ka laid there as the full force of what she had accomplished flowed through her.

She had slain a dragon!

She had become bloodied!

SHE WAS LIZ'ARIN!

A nudge from Night-Scale made Ris'ka flip herself onto her back, the heavy rain washed the mud off her body as she looked up into the concerned eyes of her black dranther.

'_Ris'ka, are you alright?' _Night-Scale asked.

'_Yes, Night-Scale… I am alright,' _she reassured, _'We've done it.'_

'_Yes, we've done it.' _Smiles formed on both their faces.

'_But we are not finished,' _Ris'ka said as she pushed herself up. _'We have one more task left.'_

They walked over to the dragon's chest, where Ris'ka unsheathed her dagger.

She then began to cut into the scales and then the flesh, covering herself in blood. She kept cutting into the corpse until she finally found what she was looking for…

The dragon's heart…

She cut off the arteries of the massive organ and tore it out of the lifeless body. She exited the reptile's body and let the cool rain wash the hot blood off her form.

Ris'ka raised the heart high into the air and roared triumphantly, Night-Scale joined her with her own roar, and a bolt of lightning flashed behind them as if the elements themselves were cheering their victory. The finished roaring and Ris'ka brought the heart down so that Night-Scale could reach.

They then began gorging themselves on the blood pumping piece of flesh, tearing into like starved raptors after finally bringing down a krogar bull. They sat in the rain, eating the heart for five minutes until there was nothing left but the blood that was being washed away by the rain.

'_We are Dragon Hunters now,' _Night-Scales told her, as she licked her chops. _'We now represent the strength of the Screaming Skulls.'_

'_Yes we do.' _Ris'ka responded simply.

'_I am now a true Liz'arin. None can say otherwise,' _she thought to herself.

Ris'ka then made for the cave, quickly followed by Night-Scale. They would have to wait until the rain subsided before lighting a signal fire. Inside was a nest, built from large leaves and branches, a good place to sleep for the rest of the night as well as material for the bonfire when the storm subsided.

But something was already in the nest, something oval-shaped…

A dragon's egg…

Ris'ka could not believe her fortune. The Spirits were surely watching over her.

Dragons rarely lay their eggs in proving grounds, but when they do, they only lay one. This egg will lie dormant for the duration of the Blood Trial unless its mother is slain. The dragon inside the egg will then be bonded to the youth and familiar who slew its mother. Those who ride the dragons are the strongest warriors in all Lizar'ik, immensely powerful in the ways of magic and masters of the hunt. But due to the rarity of a youth slaying a dragon and of that dragon having an egg, there were only four riders in Lizar'ik.

And now… there are five.

Ris'ka and Night-Scale cautiously approached the egg as if it might burst if they were too hasty. Ris'ka then took a knee and gently picked up the egg. Night-Scales was standing to her right, sniffing it. The egg's shell shined the same dark gore of its mother's scales. Ris'ka and Night-Scale then entered the mind of the dragon inside.

They could feel the fear this little creature had, feel the terror of its mother's killers holding it, in full control of its Path.

'_Have no fear, little one.' _Ris'ka and Night-Scale spoke as one to the egg, _'your mother died bravely and honorably in battle. She is now a part of us, and soon, she will be a part of you as well. You shall grow to be strong… all shall fear your claws and teeth and breathe. You will soar through the air like the Wind Spirits themselves.'_

The fear began to subside, replaced by security, comfort and a burning desire to fulfill these predictions.

'_Your beating wings will strike with the force of a raging typhoon. Your tail shall swipe away any who dare oppose you. Your claws shall have the power to crush even the mighty boulder-shell beasts. Your teeth shall tear your enemies to bloody ribbons. And your breathe… it shall have the power to scorch entire groves and all within them to ashes.'_

'_All shall respect you, fear you, and honor you. You shall be joined with us, and together we will become the greatest warriors the lands have ever seen!'_

The egg suddenly began to crack.

Ris'ka quickly but gently se the egg back into the nest, before she and Night-Scale backed away from it.

They watched as the egg shook itself, the tiny dragon inside struggling to free itself from its protective prison. Another bolt of lightning flashed outside the cave just as the dragon burst from the confines of the egg.

Its scales were slightly darker than its mother's, Ris'ka noted (now sitting down) as the hatchling struggled to stand up. Night-Scale went up to it and helped it get to its feet. The hatchling nuzzled up to Night-Scale in a show of gratitude before turning to face Ris'ka.

Ris'ka removed the skull helmet covering her face so the hatchling could get a clear view. Upon seeing her brown, un-scaly face it cocked its head in a confused manner. Ris'ka laughed softly at the display before extending her left hand towards the hatchling. Seeming to understand what she desired, the hatchling edged towards her outstretched palm and touched it.

Pain rushed through Ris'ka and into Night-Scale through their bond, but the pain was brief.

Ris'ka looked at her hand and saw a strange leaf shaped scar present on her palm. It shined a very bright gray color, reminiscent of fish scales.

'_We are now bonded with this little one, Ris'ka' _Night-Scale told her, _'He shall be our third, for we are now three shards of the same soul.'_

Ris'ka was beyond happy, when she returns home she will become the champion of her clan. She will bear the screaming skull with the same pride her brother and father wear theirs. And she would finally be accepted as a Lizar'in.

She suddenly found herself yawning, the exhaustion of fighting a dragon and bonding with a hatchling had finally caught up to her. She laid down in the nest and closed her eyes. She felt Night-Scale curl up against her back and the hatchling nuzzle up to her front.

'_Sleep well, Ris'ka, and you too little one.' _Night-Scale said before falling into slumber.

'_Sleep well, Night-Scale,' _She responded.

Ris'ka then wrapped her right arm around the small hatchling, bringing it closer to her chest.

'_Sleep well, Dra'kor.'_

And with that final thought, Ris'ka joined her other halves in the welcoming embrace of sleep.

* * *

**Author's Note: ANNNND done! Man this chapter has got to be the longest chapter I've ever written so far. Anyway, hope you liked it, I have to work more on my other story now, I've been putting it off for a while and really need to update it. Don't worry, I'll get the third chapter in as soon as I can.**

**Also if you want to know what a carnasour looks like, then look up "Games workshop Carnasours" or go to their website Games and look up Lizardmen. I don't own carnasours I just really like the way they look. The raptors are like the ones in the 2005 King Kong movie, which can grow 16 to 24 feet long and are roughly 10 or 11 feet tall. There's probably a description for them on the king kong wiki, or if you own a copy of world of kong, which has a detailed description about them.  
**

**Also tree-hole strikers, imagine an eel-like amphibian with a poisonous bite that paralyzes you then swallows you whole and alive.**

**Boulder-backs are ankylosauruses.**

**And crocalisks are six-legged crocodiles that can grow to be thirty feet long.**

**Please fav, follow and review, thank you!**

**DeadRich18 Out!**


	4. Chapter 3: A Strange New Land

**I do not own Inheritance Cycle it belongs to Christopher Paolini. I do however own the fantasy culture and the race that practices it.**

**Here ya go chapter 3 this was a BITCH to write! Hope ya like it.**

* * *

**Savagery**

**Chapter 3: A Strange New Land**

**Seven years later…**

'_Does this situation really warrant our attention?' _A bored Night-Scale asked from her seat on Dra'kor's back.

'_Rex Turok wants people he trusts to find out what happened to all those hunters.' _Replied Dra'kor with his powerful mental voice.

'_They were probably just eaten during their hunts, it happens all the time.'_ Night-Scale argued.

'_This is true, but for so many hunters to disappear in the course of a month, and for them all to vanish in the same area is very suspicious.' _Ris'ka told them both. _'That's why we're here, this isn't the work of wild animals Night-Scale and you know it.'_

Night-Scale simply huffed at this reasoning as the trio continued to soar through the skies of Lizar'ik.

It had been seven rains since Ris'ka had survived the Blood Trial and returned home. The fact she survived shocked many in the clan, but not as much as discovering she had slain a dragon and bonded with its offspring. Her family was ecstatic, they greeted her with strong hugs and praise for her mighty deed.

On the night of her return, the clan gathered for a massive celebratory feast. Dozens of long tables and scores of benches were brought out into the streets, and the dragon's meat was butchered and served in all different ways. The sound of drums, didgeridoos and bone horns filled the streets of the city with blood-pumping music. But before the feast began, the clan mark of the Screaming Skulls was painted onto Ris'ka's brown face by the High Shaman.

She, Dra'kor and Night-Scale stood on a raised platform right outside Rexa'gula as the shaman carefully spread the paint on her face. He first painted her nose and the skin around her eyes black before painting the white skull on her skin, then he drew upon her lips the black line, crossing it over with his claw. When he was finished he announced her a hunter and warrior of the Screaming Skulls to which the gathered crowd roared in approval.

The three sat at the head of the center table with their family where Ris'ka told them all about her time in the proving grounds. After a while, her father and Swift-Bite stood up and commanded silence from all gathered, all eyes were turned towards the Rex's table. An uncooked slice of the meat was placed in front of Dra'kor, the hatchling dragon, (who was perched on Ris'ka's shoulder at the time) climbed off her and onto the table. He sniffed the flesh of his mother briefly before snatching it up and gulping it down whole.

The clan once again, roared with approval and the feast finally started. The clan quickly began devouring the large meal laid out before them. The large slabs of cooked dragon meat were surrounded by an array of eggs, all from different animals. Along with the eggs was one of the only edible fruits in Lizar'ik, coconuts. These large, rock hard nuts were smashed or cut open for the milk inside them along with the soft white lining under the shell.

Bowls of dragon meat stew were served with steamed blue lobster tails. These delicacies hail from the crystal clear waters of the southern islands, where they are trapped then sold live in a multitude of cities, including Liz'ara. The meat in their tails is eaten first, and the empty shell is used like a spoon to scoop up the meaty stew.

Small chunks of the meat were skewered on wooden sticks with sliced cubes of mango (another of the few edible fruits) and river shrimp. These kabobs were dunked in bowls of mouse blood then roasted over and open fire. These went fast, as they were favored treats among children both for their taste and the way they are prepared.

The celebration lasted long into the night, many did not return to their homes and instead fell asleep on and around the tables and benches with full stomachs. Ris'ka and her family however, were not among those sleeping on streets, they had retired into Rexa'gula with the High Shaman several hours into the feast for another ritual.

Having the dragon mark tattooed onto her left arm.

The silver scar marked Ris'ka as a dragon rider, but the dragon tattoo marked her as a dragon _slayer_.

After deadening her arm, the High Shaman took a needle crafted from bone and started to inject black ink into Ris'ka's skin. The ink is taken from a species of fresh water octopus native to the rivers of Lizar'ik. For many hours the ink stained needle pricked her flesh, slowly shaping the neck and head of a black dragon, reaching from her shoulder where the base of the neck began, to her wrist where its open maw made to swallow her hand. When dawn came the shaman finally finished inking the mark into her flesh.

After the dragon mark was bestowed upon her, the work of crafting armor and weapons from the remains of the dragon began.

Using both her magic and own skill, Ris'ka crafted weapons and a set of armor. Using the scales, she made a full-body suit that gripped her form tightly, but did not restrict her movement at all. Then, using the shoulder-blades and pelvic bone, crafted bone-plates that were fixed to the outer thighs, shins, chest, shoulders, groin, and back of the suit using strong, magic enhanced glue.

A pair of gauntlets were crafted from the skin and bones; the fingers of which, were tipped with sharp iron ends to form claws, along with a pair of strong but light bone-plate boots. Ris'ka also crafted two bracers from the bones, but these bracers were not for defense.

These bracers would hold a weapon only bloodied clan members may have the honor of wielding.

The deadly Scimitar.

The scimitar is a wrist-mounted blade (with a slight downwards curve), of strong and sharp enough to slice a raptor's head off in one swing. The length and size of the blade varies greatly on the animal it was craved from. One of the most common and deadly weapons of the Liz'arin people, they can only be worn by those who prove their worth by bringing down a mighty beast in the Blood Trial. Made from the bones of their kill, the scimitar is often worn on both of the warrior's wrists to utilize their deadly skills to the fullest.

Ris'ka's scimitars were three and a half feet long. And since hers are made from dragon bone, they would be stronger and lighter than blades crafted from the bones of other beasts.

The blades are mounted on the bracers in special slots cut into the sides of the bracers that face away from the chest. They are held in place by a spell that the wielder controls, allowing them to either fall off or never budge from their spot on the bracers. When not in their bracers, the scimitars would be stored in sheaths hanging from each hip; these sheaths are often made using the scaly hide of the beast the warrior slew.

She also made a long bow using the bones and sinew, at least two hundred bone-head arrows, a dragon scale quiver, and a bone spear.

But Ris'ka was not the only one to benefit from this.

With the assistance of another dragon rider, (a bloodied from the Red Chins clan), and several bone and iron smiths from the Iron Hides, Ris'ka crafted a mighty set of armor for Dra'kor. Though he would have to grow to the size his mother before he could wear it, the armor was impressive none the less.

His mother's skull was made into a helmet, her lower jaw attached to it using the same magic Ris'ka used on her skull helm, allowing Dra'kor to bite his opponents fully helmed without hindrance. Using iron, scale and bone, her ribs were crafted together into a skeleton-like armor to be worn on his back and over his sides, it was held together by webs of strong rope that doubled as trophy nets. Armor for his legs, tail and neck were also crafted in a similar manner and after nearly two rains of hard work, the dragon armor was finished. The last touch was powerful spell that allowed the armor to _grow _with its wearer. This prevents the need to constantly craft bigger and bigger armor for the dragon. (This enchantment is also placed on Ris'ka's armor.)

Night-Scale received a set of armor with a similar look to Dra'kor's own along with a similar enchantment, but minus the helmet.

Before construction on the armor started however, the rider of the Red Chins clan showed Ris'ka how craft a saddle for Dra'kor that would accommodate both herself and Night-Scale.

A special basket-seat placed at the back of the saddle, where adjustable straps would prevent Night-Scale from falling off. The straps are designed so that a dranther can tighten or loosen them as easily as its thumbed partner can.

As the rains came and went, Ris'ka and her partners experienced many things. As the champions and representatives of the Screaming Skulls, they met with many different clans, even some from outside their tribe.

They visited the Ga'goyle clan, Razor Wing, in the Serpent's Back Mountains, and the Naga of the Serpent's Eye clan in the southern islands. From each of these visits, the trio learned many interesting and useful things from their winged and watery counterparts.

The Ga'goyle taught Dra'kor to fly with speed and silence, even when wearing his armor and they taught them how to tell when a storm is coming and how big it will be by feeling the wind and observing the behavior of the clouds. The Ga'goyle even showed them how to safely fly through these storms without fear of the strong and deadly winds tearing Dra'kor apart.

The Naga of the Serpent's Eye clan shared their knowledge with the trio as well. They're shamans showed Ris'ka, Night-Scale, and Dra'kor how to view others with the use of scrying and how to swim through the water with the elegance of a sea serpent. Ris'ka also learned spells from them; spells that ranged from healing grievous wounds to inflicting mind-numbing pain.

Normally, the tribes wouldn't share these skills with those outside their kind, but due to Ris'ka's role as a dragon rider she, Night-Scale, and Dra'kor were exceptions to this rule, along with her extraordinary skill in clan talks.

Ris'ka's skills as an ambassador were almost on par with her skills as a hunter and warrior. She can see the hidden intentions and desires of others as easily as a raptor can sniff out fresh blood. Just the simplest change in body language reveals a huge amount of information to Ris'ka. This talent is not just Ris'ka's to claim; through their bond, both Night-Scale and Dra'kor have inherited their two-legged third's power of perception and can use it just as well as she can.

This has allowed her to determine which clans are strong and which are weak, and help her father to determine which clan would provide the best fight for their warriors during the ceremonial clan battles.

The Liz'arin are a race of hunters and warriors and their thirst for battle can only sated for so long by the blood of beasts. To prevent their violent nature from destroying their culture and way of life, every clan in the three tribes take part in the clan battles. These are two week-long, rotating skirmishes that occur in the beginning and middle of a rain (a year) where clans pit their strongest warriors against one another in mighty battles. These battles are used as ways to settle grudges between clans fairly, keep their warriors strong and sharp-witted and just like in the Blood Trial, to weed out the weak and strengthen the strong.

All of a clan's warriors must participate in these battles, and the skirmishes are often watched by youths, elders, spouses and shamans. Each clan battle is limited to one hour or until one side has too few warriors to continue or forfeits, (however rare it might be). Shamans from both clans will then heal those wounded in the battle, and the warriors and family members alike will begin consumption of the dead.

There are several different battles that occur: foot combat, mounted combat, aerial combat, water combat, and magical combat.

Foot combats, as the name implies, are infantry battles and the most common of the battles; they are mostly comprised of the Liz'arin who passed their Blood Trial by slaying a great beast, though any are allowed to partake.

Mounted combat is mainly for those who tamed a creature for their Blood Trial, (usually a raptor). These fights are some of the faster ones; raptors jumping at each other with maw open and killing claw primed, riders with weapons raised in attempts to kill the attacker before they can, and dranthers tumbling around on the ground trying to rip out the others throat. These fights often last for only about fifteen minutes, before the wining clan is made clear. Like the foot combats, any are welcomed to partake in the mounted battles, all Saurous are taught how to ride raptors at thirteen rains of age and Ris'ka was no exception.

There are two other versions of mounted combat, flight and titan. Flight mounted combat is for the Saurous or Ga'goyle that have tamed a flying beast, like the long-beaked terradon or the fierce wyvern. Titan mounted combat is for Saurous who have tamed the biggest and fiercest animals Lizar'ik has to offer, the carnasour, troglodon, thunder-lizard, boulder-shell beast, dragon and more, all fall into this category (and like the honor duels, dragons can't use flight or fire).

Aerial combat is the exclusive combat of the Ga'goyle tribe. Considered the most dangerous of all the combats, it takes place high in the skies of Lizar'ik. Combatants and their drawk familiars will charge at each other with talons stretched out to strike, and crash into each other. They will then plummet to the ground below, all while they attempt to land the killing blow on the other before they reach the ground. More often than not, neither will land the final blow and will part from each other before they hit the ground. Sometimes however, the fighters will be so caught up in their battle, they don't notice the ground until it's too late.

Water combat, like aerial combat, is an exclusive tribe combat only for the Naga clans. Due to the many predators of the ocean, these battles take place in large, predator free coves barred off with large nets. If one watched these battles from land, all they would see is bloody water, thrashing waves, and the occasional breaching tail. The view from the sky would be only a little different; the waters would be crystal clear at the beginning, but would quickly be obscured by clouds of blood. This is because Naga fight under the surface of the water, where they can take full advantage of their strong, flexible bodies.

Magical combat is similarly reserved only for shamans. But unlike the other combats, magic battles are not large skirmishes between two armies, but two-on-two duels between shamans and their familiars. Also unlike the other combats, shamans can choose whether they wish to fight or not. Many believe it is because their connection to the Spirits have quelled their desire for blood and glory. But, when shamans do fight, the battle is a sight to behold. Lightning bolts, fireballs, stone pillars, ripping winds, summoned elementals, conjured storms and sky fire are just a _few _of the things one might see take place.

These ritual battles often leave youths orphaned, but this is rarely a problem. If a child and familiar have lost both their parents, be it in a hunt, duel, or clan battle, they are often adopted by other members of their clan. Those who have killed the child's parent and familiar will also take the child in. This is a Liz'arin's way of honoring a fallen foe; by taking in their opponent's child and their familiar cub, the warrior will train them to be stronger fighters than their deceased parents could.

Ris'ka and Night-Scale have taken part in many of these battles over the rains. During each one, they have led the charge against the foe with savage roars and lightning speed. Due to Dra'kor being a dragon, he can only take part in the titan combats. The others he simply watches from afar with the children, often letting them sit on his head and raising it high so they may have a better view of the battles.

Ris'ka was a gore-red and bone-white blur on the battlefield and Night-Scale was no different. Their skill and ferocity in battle earned them many titles from the warriors of both their own clan and others. Ris'ka earned titles like, Bloody-Skull, Lightning-Strike, Dragon-Fang, and Little-Whirlwind, (She is also nicknamed "Tiny" by Draigo and Tail-Swipe, much to her chagrin). Night-Scale was called Shadow-Death, Spirit-Walker, and Cunning-Claw. Dra'kor earned titles as well, Gore-Scale, Butcher-Claw, and Shadow-Wing were among his favorites.

Over the years the trio have accumulated many trophies, most were kept in the trophy room, but some Ris'ka hung from the rope-webs on Dra'kor's armor. Dra'kor took pleasure in wearing his armor, it was light but strong and made his already fearsome looking self even more terrifying.

But today was not a day for battle.

For the past month hunters from several clans have been disappearing by the score. While deaths during hunts are very high in Lizar'ik, they never happen in such rapid succession and there are at least two survivors (one Liz'arin and familiar) who return, but none from these hunts have returned. To add to the suspicion, they've all vanished in the same area; a hunting ground close to the Serpent's Back used by many different clans due to its abundance of game.

Normally, this would be waved off as the work of hungry predators, but those who neared the grounds smelled no Liz'arin or familiar blood and reported that the jungle was unnaturally quiet.

This is why Turok sent Ris'ka, Night-Scale and Dra'kor to find whatever has been taking the clans' hunters and put a stop to it, one way or another.

Since they didn't know what to expect, Ris'ka had dressed Dra'kor in his armor. Ris'ka tried to convince Night-Scale to allow her to do the same for her, but Night-Scale refused, stating she only needs armor for battle, not for finding dead hunters. Still, Ris'ka decided it best to pack it in one of Dra'kor's saddle packs just to be safe.

The trip to the hunting ground would have taken them two days to at the least to reach by land, but Dra'kor's swift and mighty wings got them there by sundown. Once they arrived they spent several more minutes in the air looking for a suitable clearing for Dra'kor to land. Once they found the clearing, Dra'kor began his descent.

He hadn't even touched the ground before Ris'ka and Night-Scale jumped off him and surveyed their surroundings. Immediately, Ris'ka sensed something was wrong.

'_Dra'kor, Night-Scale, listen.' _She told them.

They stopped all movement and listened to the sounds of the jungle…

Only there weren't any sounds, the jungle was as quiet as a tree-hole striker. Not a bird, lemur, frog, insect, or big animal could be heard, all was silent.

'_There is something strange in the air,' _Dra'kor told his two halves after taking a huge whiff of air. _'I can smell it.'_

'_Me too.' _Night-Scale stated, lowering herself into a battle stance, ready to pounce anything foolish enough to try and attack them.

Ris'ka remained quiet, carefully scanning the brush and trees surrounding them for the slightest sign of movement or sound.

Suddenly, she saw a shadow move. With lightning speed, Ris'ka pulled out her bow, notched an arrow and aimed it where the shadow was.

But the shadow was no longer there…

Caution filled Ris'ka and Night-Scale, and they moved closer to Dra'kor.

'_There it is!' _Night-Scale announced, _'in the trees!'_

'_No,' _Dra'kor argued, _'it's still in the brush!'_

Shadows moved all around them, in the trees, and in the brush. They were completely surrounded by an enemy they could not see.

Ris'ka was just about to tell Night-Scale to jump onto Dra'kor before mounting him herself, when an unexpected and terrible pain shot into her mind. Her mental defenses were shattered before she even had a chance to raise them, and collapsed onto the ground with a short scream of anguish, paralyzed by the pain. The presence in her mind impairing her from even speaking. All she could do was glare into the depths of the jungle.

'_Ris'ka!'_ Both Night-Scale and Dra'kor yelled, with concern and protective anger in their voices. Night-Scale stood over Ris'ka's prone form, growling and hissing at the shadows in the jungle.

"No move!" A voice spoke in accented and broken Liz'arin, "You do what we say or we kill her bad!"

Dra'kor and Night-Scale snarled at this demand, but reluctantly obeyed. Ris'ka was enraged, she desperately wanted to tell them to fly away, to go to her father, but the presence in her mind prevented any sort of communication between Ris'ka and her partners. All she could do was bare her teeth under her helmet.

They remained this way until the sun had completely passed under the horizon. As soon as the sky darkened, a figure stepped out into the clearing and once they saw it, the trio snarled in mix of rage, disgust and fear.

The figure was completely covered in gray and blue clothing, from its head to its toes. Even Ris'ka's sharp eyes could not see a single breach in the cloth, even its face was covered by dirty blue shawls, its black-tinted eyes bulged outwards like a bug's. A long, fish-scale gray cloak and hood was draped over its back.

The figure was a Dark One…

The Dark Ones came to Lizar'ik many generations ago, arriving in large, wooden canoes from a land to the north-west. It was said that they once were able to live _very_ long lives, but they had no familiars, nor did they eat their dead. Legends say they mocked and insulted the Liz'arin's culture, and constantly interrupted their Blood Trials by killing the youths and familiars. Their arrogance and disrespect angered not only the Liz'arin Tribes, but the dragons and even the great Spirits themselves were outraged by their disgusting behavior. The Spirits cursed the first Dark Ones, taking from them their long life and the privilege to walk under the sun's gaze.

The sun became their worst enemy, scorching any part of their body that entered its light to a crisp. It is said that so many Dark Ones burnt up on the first day of the curse that the jungle smelled of ashes and burnt flesh for three days. By the time they realized what had befallen them and taken precautions against the sun's rays, the Liz'arin tribes attacked. They drove them far underground, into the maze of caverns and stone tunnels that lie beneath the Serpent's Back Mountains. And they have lived there ever since, coming out only at night when the sun poses no threat to them.

And now, Ris'ka was at the mercy of these monsters. More than ever she wished she could move, if only to tear out the abomination's throat.

More Dark Ones revealed themselves, completely circling the warrior, dranther and dragon. Over a hundred of the cursed creatures were present, all covered by heavy cloaks dyed either black, gray, or varying shades of blue. They stopped a hundred feet away from Dra'kor, all except the first one to reveal itself to them. It walked right up to Ris'ka and Night-Scale, Dra'kor's snarling head never left the Dark One as it kneeled down in front of Ris'ka and Night-Scale.

There was so much clothing covering the Dark One, Ris'ka couldn't tell if it was male or female. What she thought were eyes, Ris'ka now saw were actually special goggles, darker than obsidian.

The Dark One uttered something in its disgusting language, (its voice was masculine but also feminine, making it impossible to guess its gender.) no sooner did it finish speaking, thousands of foreign words rushed into Ris'ka's mind and through their bond, into Night-Scale and Dra'kor as well.

The words came with meanings, but there were so many of them, they confused Ris'ka and brought more pain to her already aching mind. Ris'ka grunted and heard both her partners whine and hiss in irritation as the painful transfer continued. Ris'ka did all she could to try and resist the flow of words, but with her mind being controlled by one of these disgusting creatures, all she could do was throw the words and meaning into disarray.

Finally, after what felt like hours, the transfer ended. Their minds were now filled with strange and foreign words, their meanings were jumbled and Ris'ka didn't have a clue which meaning went with which word.

"You…back to… home…." Ris'ka could only understand a few snips of the words, her mind was still swimming and she couldn't concentrate on what the Dark One was saying.

The Dark One rose from the ground and stared up at Dra'kor, who had just finished shaking his head in an attempt to clear his mind before glaring hatefully at the monster before it walked back to where the rest of its kin were standing.

Ris'ka's head was finally beginning to clear, when they began to do the most unexpected thing.

The Dark Ones started to sing.

But they did not sing like Liz'arin; they sung with a smooth fluidness that Ris'ka had never heard before. She may have even considered it beautiful if not for the fact it was being sung by the most hated creatures in all Lizar'ik.

The words were strange, they were not the words they had planted in her mind. They seemed to have a certain power in them, and despite not understanding the words themselves, Ris'ka was able to grasp what some of the words _meant_…

_Send them away…_

Light began to form around the trio, Dra'kor growled hatefully at it, but remained still. Night-Scale still stood over Ris'ka protectively and was whipping her head back and forth, snarling at the surrounding light. The light grew stronger and stronger and the Dark Ones sung louder and louder.

The painful presence in her mind was slowly leaving her mind as the song progressed. Suddenly the light flared as bright as the sun itself, blinding the trio. Ris'ka felt the presence completely leave her mind and screamed to her partners.

'_Dra'kor, Night-Scale! Get out of he-'_

The light enveloped them completely before she could finish her command and then it burst into sparkling dust.

And where the three once stood, there was nothing but charred and smoking grass.

* * *

Argetsúndav gazed upon the scorched patch of earth with tears in his eyes.

After so many generations of waiting and planning, their chance of returning to the fabled homeland had come. Ever since their ancestors had been cursed by the Spirits for their arrogance, they had been trying to return to the homeland. But the sun's harmful gaze and the Liz'arin's seething hatred for them prevented them from returning through conventional means.

But then, _she _came.

Twenty-two years ago, they had found the ravaged village of elves, too late to save any of them from the jungle's viscous predators. The only survivor was an infant girl, who much to their irritation, was taken in by the ruler of the Liz'arin and raised in their ways.

They watched with anger and contempt as she was brought up by the Saurous chief and his family like she was one of them. But they knew she would never be accepted by his clan until she had a familiar, something they were certain would never happen. However, the Spirits did not share their perspective and took pity on her, sending that black and white dranther to be her "other half" and let her partake in the Blood Trial.

And when she not only survived the Blood Trial, but became the clan champion many lost what little hope they had left.

But as the years passed, the elders realized this situation could be just what they needed. So they waited, and when the time was right, they set their plan into motion.

Through the use of paralyzing poisons, skill and ancient magic, they captured many Saurous hunters from many different clans. This was for two reasons, the first was to lure her to them and the second reason was to provide the needed energy to perform the teleportation spell.

Now she was in the homeland, and their plan was almost fulfilled. All they needed now as the Saurous king.

"Bring forth the prisoners!" Argetsúndav commanded his kin.

Almost all of the hunters and their familiars had been completely drained of their life energy by the spell and were now little more than lifeless husks. There were only two left alive, and they were crucial for the next stage of the plan.

Several of his kin returned with a Saurous and his familiar; his head was bare of a feathered crest, red paint covered the top, marking him a member of the Scalper clan.

Both he and his familiar were restrained by dozens of enchanted iron chains. The hunter was brought before Argetsúndav, where one of his kinsmen struck him behind his knee, forcing him to kneel in front of Argetsúndav, the familiar growled with rage at this act but could do nothing else. Even on his knees, the Scalper was a massive being, his head came up to Argetsúndav's chest.

He looked down at the scaly creature, who returned his stare with a wrathful glare that promised nothing but death for those who captured him and his dranther.

"You go to Rex," Argetsúndav began, using the few Liz'arin words he knew. "You go to Rex, tell him meet us here."

The Saurous simply snarls at him, "What makes a Dark One like yourself think I would do your bidding?" He growled out.

"We send his not-child far away," Argetsúndav stated, "If he want find her, he come talk with us."

"I ask again." The Scalper was stubborn, "What makes you think I'd do the bidding of a Dark One?"

"You no do what we want, we kill dranter but keep you live." Argetsúndav replied simply.

That was the Liz'arin's greatest weakness, the bond they share with the dranthers, drawk and coral serpents of Lizar'ik. So strong was this bond, if one of them dies the other follows almost immediately due to the shock. But not all of them do. Should one of them survive they will enter an incurable berserker rage, devoid of all thought, reason and distinction between friend and foe.

This was a fate feared by both Liz'arin and familiars, for if they succumb to the rage they believe their souls will never find peace and forever roam the world until they vanish into the mist.

Both the captives' eyes went wide with horror, then rage, then finally reluctant acceptance. He broke his gaze with Argetsúndav, looking at the ground for several moments before replying.

"Fine…" He hissed.

"Good," Argetsúndav then used the old tongue to remove their bindings before pointing in the direction of the Liz'arin capital city.

"You go now, others follow to make sure." He told him.

The Saurous hissed in displeasure, but wisely held his tongue. He and his dranther ran into the jungle, quickly followed by three of Argetsúndav's kin.

He looked back at the charred earth.

'_We will finally return to the homeland.' _Argetsúndav thought, tears of joy pooled up in his goggles and his lips curved up in a smile.

'_Finally, we can return to Alagaësia!'_

* * *

'…'

'…_.ka?'_

'…_Ris'ka? Ris'ka! Wake up!'_

With a groan Ris'ka opened her eyes and was greeted by the worried gazes of Night-Scale and Dra'kor. She quickly pushed herself up and threw her right arm around Night-Scale and her left on Dra'kor's armored snout. Ris'ka let her relief flow into them as they did so with her.

They remained in the embrace for what felt like hours before Ris'ka broke it. She looked around them and saw they were no longer in the night shrouded jungle clearing they had been subdued in. Massive mountains surrounded them, larger than she had ever seen, they went so far up they pierced the clouds themselves.

The trees surrounding them were just as unknown as the mountains. Instead of broad leaves and long, tangled vines, the bizarre trees were covered by what looked like needles. The trees were shaped differently too, shooting straight up into the air like an arrow with the branches and needles shaping them to even look like huge green arrowheads.

It was cold too, much colder than Ris'ka was used to.

'_Where are we?' _Ris'ka asked her equally mesmerized partners.

'_I don't know, Ris'ka. The land is unlike any I have seen or smelled before, we might not even be in Lizar'ik.' _Night-Scale replied.

'_I agree. The air smells different and the winds are much colder than even the highest peak of the Serpent's Back.' _Came Dra'kor's elaboration.

Ris'ka couldn't believe this. The Dark Ones had sent them to a completely new land!

She finally noticed that it was no longer night, but neither was it morning. The massive mountains blocked the sun from covering the interior of their domain in complete sunlight, giving the area a look of darkening twilight.

"How long was I unconscious?" Ris'ka asked aloud.

'_We know not, I was woken a few moments before you by Night-Scale, and she only a few seconds before that.' _Dra'kor informed her.

Ris'ka looked around once more, the ground surround them was charred black for a hundred feet. She noticed her long bow was on the ground with the arrow still notched on its string, Ris'ka was relieved to see she would not be without a ranged weapon.

She picked up the arrow and bow, put them away and made to mount Dra'kor. Night-Scale jumped on his back and into her basket just as Ris'ka leapt into the saddle. As they strapped themselves in, Ris'ka conveyed her intention to Dra'kor.

'_We should scout the surrounding area, see if we can find anyone who might tell us where we are.'_

Dra'kor simply nodded before using his mighty wings to shoot into the sky. They soared for not even thirty minutes, when a familiar sound reached their ears.

The blare of a war horn.

Curious, the trio flew in the direction of the call. It led them to river flowing out of a lake. A large waterfall was present on the far side of the lake, and the river was flanked by narrow, pebble-rock shores that widened near the base of the waterfall. But it was what was on these shores that caught Ris'ka's attention.

Two strange looking creatures, leading a pair of tall four-legged animals, followed by a bright blue dragon. This group was being pursued by creatures equally if not larger than the average Saurous male, they were broad, gray-hide beasts with ugly faces and spiral horns sticking out of the sides of their heads.

'_A dragon!' _Exclaimed Dra'kor.

'_One of those two creatures must be its rider.' _Night-Scale explained.

Thoughts spiraled around inside Ris'ka's head. What should she do? Should she assist the pursuers or the pursued? The dragon marked one of them as a clan champion, perhaps it had failed to represent its clan respectively in the eyes of the horned-ones? Maybe they are from different tribes. Yes, that would make the most sense. The fleeing group must be clan representatives who must have insulted the other group and now they were being hunted.

The only question is why send such a large force after so few?

The trio watched from afar as the chase continued, the blue dragon suddenly took off and turned to face the approaching horde. Ris'ka heard the brown haired creature scream out in protest in the strange language the Dark Ones placed in her head. The dragon paid no heed and struck out against the horned creatures, who were now firing volleys of arrows at the dragon.

The arrows did little against the blue dragon, who suddenly dove into the river and completely submerged itself. The gray-hides were hesitant to advance, but one growled something out before jabbing its spear into the water, only to have it ripped from its hands by the dragon. Its comrades quickly brandished their own spears to jab at the dragon as it attacked. The dragon kept them at bay, but those on the opposite bank continued unhindered.

The two no-horn creatures were at the base of the waterfall now and completely trapped. Ris'ka suddenly noticed a third being, strapped to one of the four-legged beasts' back. They had wounded with them. Ris'ka suddenly realized what must be happening, these were not failed clan talkers, but refugees.

The dragon and these three beings must be members of a clan that was attacked and nearly wiped out, most likely by the horned ones. They were trying to escape death by running but were now trapped between the advancing horde and the descending wall of water.

This settled the dispute on whether they should act or not for Ris'ka. In Lizar'ik, if a clan loses too many members due to failed hunts, famine, disease, or battle they are to be left alone by the other clans nor take part in ceremonial clan battles, until they are at least a hundred warriors strong. Should another clan attack them during this time of weakness, their chief would be killed and their numbers thinned to match those of the clan they attacked. They would also suffer the shame of having their clan marks removed until they were deemed worthy to wear them again.

But these horned ones seemed set on completely annihilating these stragglers and the dragon, something that Ris'ka could not abide.

With her magic, Ris'ka reached out to the lake and called upon the Spirits that lived within its waters. She implored them to lend her their strength so that she may assist those being attacked.

The Water Spirits heard her plea and gave Ris'ka permission to call upon them for aid. She summoned six massive serpents from lake, made entirely of water. The display of power seemed to surprise both parties to a great deal, but the horned ones senses quickly returned and they roared at the elementals. With lightning speed the watery constructs struck out at the offenders, smashing them against each other using their strong, liquid bodies or pulling them into the depths with their watery jaws.

The blue dragon jumped out of the lake as the elemental serpents held off the attackers on both banks. Water Spirits are fickle however, and will only aid those who call upon them for a select amount of time before returning to the Spiritual Plane. Ris'ka knew this, and urged Dra'kor to land so they might greet the still stupefied group.

As they descended, Ris'ka noticed one of the horned ones had made it past the water serpents and was running towards the brown haired creature with a raised spear.

Dra'kor was about to reach the ground, but Ris'ka was faster. Using magic, she undid the straps around her legs within the blink of an eye and leapt off the dark red dragon. As she fell, she placed her bracers against her sheathed scimitars and fixed them to her wrists before whipping them out. Blades raised, she landed on the back of the beast with enough force and surprise to knock it to the ground. Wasting no time, Ris'ka decapitated the beast with a swift swipe of her left scimitar.

Dra'kor landed soon after the act with a thud and Night-Scale jumped off him with the savage grace of a predator. The two four-legged animals bucked and panicked but stayed where they were, the two furry-heads had swords drawn and pointed at the trio and the dragon stared at Dra'kor with a mix of awe and horror in its eyes.

Using some of the words the Dark Ones gave her, Ris'ka tried to convey their intentions.

"We no harm you! We want help!" The words were guttural and crude, much different from the smooth hissing and sharpness of the Liz'arin tongue.

"Who are you?" The black haired one yelled over the roar of the waterfall, she was about to answer when the blue dragon growled at the brown haired one. He turned and looked the dragon in the same way Ris'ka looked at Dra'kor or Night-Scale when she talked to them.

Arrows soared towards them, clanking off Dra'kor's mighty armor or flying right over them. The brown haired one sheathed his red blade and addressed the black haired one.

"The Varden… on the… of the lake. We… …. the waterfall!" He yelled, once again, Ris'ka only understood snippets of what he was saying.

The black haired one said something called _horses_ would never go through it, but the brown haired one said he would convince them, and that _Saphira _can take _Arya_.

'_Does he mean those strange, hoofed beasts?' _Night-Scale asked.

'_Probably, they must be their mounts, judging by the saddles.' _Dra'kor stated as the black haired one removed the unconscious one from one of the beasts and the brown haired one caught it.

As they heaved their companion onto the dragon, (who must be the Saphira they spoke of), she jumped into the sky and over the lake.

'_Dra'kor, fallow the blue one over the lake, we'll meet you on the other side.' _Ris'ka told him.

Wordlessly, the bone armored dragon took off, but not in the direction of the smaller dragon. He flew right towards the clumped up pursuers, (the water elementals still harried their progress) and snatched one of the larger beasts in his right claw. With his catch in claw, Dra'kor opened his jaws wide and bathed those still living in an avalanche of dark red fire. They screamed and wailed in agony as dragon fire cooked them alive. After fifteen seconds of spewing flames, Dra'kor shut his maw and flew in the direction of the blue dragon.

No sooner did he pass out of sight, the water elementals burst apart, their time on this world expired. The few surviving horned creatures doubled their efforts to reach the waterfall. Climbing over their charred comrades to reach their prey.

'_Ris'ka come on!' _Night-Scale yelled at her.

Ris'ka suddenly realized she had been so focused on Dra'kor, she had missed the others jump into the water and now only she and Night-Scale remained. The two quickly jumped into the cold water and swam with the swiftness of serpents, the two swam up into the hidden entrance.

* * *

Eragon gasped in air as he was pulled out of the water by his savior. The sounds of combats coming from his right made Eragon turn. He feared an Urgal attack but instead was treated to the sight of the few remaining monsters being shot up with arrows. Many were still burning, while the others were floating in the lake, their bodies resembling pin cushions as the rest were trapped by warriors who seemed to have appeared out of the cliffs themselves.

A gruff voice next to Eragon, draws his attention away from the combat. "Akh Gûnteraz dorzada! What were they thinking? You would have drowned!"

The unfamiliar voice made Eragon jerk in surprise, for it was not Murtagh standing beside him, but a small man no taller than his elbow.

The dwarf was wringing water out of his long braided beard. Whilst he did this, Eragon took the opportunity to observe his diminutive rescuer.

He had a stocky chest, and wore a chain-mail jacket cut off at the shoulders to reveal strong, muscular arms. A war axe hung from a wide leather belt strapped around his waist. An iron-bound oxhide cap, bearing the symbol of a hammer surrounded by twelve stars, sat firmly on his head. But even with the cap, he barely reached four feet in height.

The dwarf looked longingly at the battle and looked to say something, before something else emerged from the water.

It was the armored woman who saved Eragon from being impaled by an Urgal and the strange creature that jumped off the armored dragon. They leapt out of the water with unnatural grace and turned to face Eragon and the dwarf.

Now Eragon was able to get a better look at his other savior. She was covered in what looked like scales the color of thick gore. Bone plates were held in place all over her by some unknown force, Eragon saw no straps holding them. Her boots were also made of bone; the only pieces of the armor that didn't seem entirely made of bone were the gauntlets, sharp iron tips adorned each finger, turning them into claws. The strange wrist-blades she wielded were also made of bone, they curved down slightly, and their jagged yet smooth look gave them a swept appearance. Hanging lazily around her neck was a necklace made of large teeth and claws. A large sheathed dagger resided on her shin, and a quiver of arrows and a bow hung from her back.

But what got Eragon's attention most was the helm. It appeared to be crafted from a skull, but from no creature Eragon knew. The teeth were as sharp as razors, and gleamed ivory white. The eye holes were large and the revealed skin around her eyes was covered by black paint. Yet the armor gave her a certain allure, beautiful but deadly, it reminded him of Saphira's own beauty in a way.

Eragon suddenly realized that neither Murtagh or Saphira were close to him, he drew Zar'roc from its sheath and looked around for both of them.

He saw them and the skeleton armored dragon standing before a tunnel, surrounded by a mixture of human and dwarf warriors. And a tall, purple-robed man with no hair at all on his head or face was holding a dagger to Murtagh's throat.

Eragon reached for his power, but in a sharp, dangerous voice the man said, "Stop! If you use magic I'll kill your lovely friend here, who was so kind as to mention you two are dragon riders. Don't think I won't know if you're drawing upon it. You can't hide anything from me."

The armored woman and the creature hissed viscously at his threat, making many of the people present flinch back, Eragon included. Even the bald man seem a bit taken back, but he regained his composure and pressed the dagger harder against Murtagh's neck.

"None of that! If either of you say or do anything I don't tell you to, he will die. Now, everyone inside." He backed into the tunnel, pulling Murtagh with him, while shifting his gaze between Eragon and the armored woman.

'_Saphira, what should I do?' _Eragon asked quickly as both the men and dwarves followed Murtagh's captor, leading the horses along with them.

'_Go with them,' _she counseled, _'and hope that we live.' _She entered the tunnel herself, eliciting nervous glances from those around her. The armored dragon growled angrily behind its skull shaped helmet before following Saphira inside. Eragon noticed it seemed to be limping slightly, though he hadn't seen it get attacked. The woman and the creature followed after the large dragon, leaving Eragon the last to follow their captors/saviors inside.

"This way," snapped the bald man. He stepped back, keeping the dagger pressed under Murtagh's chin, then wheeled to the right, disappearing through an arched doorway. The warriors cautiously followed him, their attention centered on the two riders and their dragons.

Eragon started after Murtagh. He glanced at Saphira to confirm Arya was still tied to her back.

'_She has to get the antidote!'_ Eragon thought franticly, knowing even now the Skilna Bragh was slowly performing its purpose on her.

He hurried through the arched doorway and down a narrow corridor after the bald man. A door opened into a large bare room large enough for both dragons to move with relative ease.

"There's an injured–" he began, only to be cut off by a sharp gesture from the bald man.

"Do not speak! It must wait until you have been tested." He shoved Murtagh to one of the warriors, who pressed his sword against Murtagh's neck.

The bald man clasped his hands together softly. "Remove your weapons and slid them to me." A dwarf unbuckled Murtagh's sword and dropped it on the floor with a clank.

Reluctantly, Eragon unfastened the sheath and set it on the floor with Zar'roc. He placed his bow and quiver next to them, then pushed the pile to towards the warriors.

The mystery woman however, made no move to remove any of her weapons. The bald man glared angrily at the defiant woman. "I said, remove your weapons, woman, or you will not be allowed to enter!" The bald man spat.

Before she could answer, Eragon interrupted, "please we need a healer!"

"Not until she removes her weapons and all your minds are searched." The bald man replied, still glaring at the armored woman.

"But she's dying!" Eragon replied angrily, pointing at Arya. They may have been in a dangerous situation, but Arya needed to be cared for.

"It will have to wait! No one will leave this room until we have discovered the truth of this matter. Unless you wish–"

The dwarf who saved Eragon jumped forward. "Are you blind, Egraz Carn? Can't you see that's an elf on the dragon? We cannot keep her here if she's in danger. Ajihad and the king will have our heads if she's allowed to die!"

The man's eyes tightened with anger. After a moment he relaxed and said smoothly, "Of course, Orik, we wouldn't want that to happen." He snapped his fingers then pointed at Arya. "Remove her from the dragon."

Reluctantly, two warriors sheathed their swords and approached Saphira, who watched them steadily.

"Quickly, quickly!"

The men unstrapped Arya from the saddle and lowered the elf to the floor. One inspected her face, then said sharply, "It's the dragon-egg courier, Arya!"

"What?" The bald man exclaimed. The dwarf Orik's eyes widened. The bald man fixed his steely gaze on Eragon and flatly said, "You have much explaining to do."

With as much determination as he could muster, Eragon returned his stare. "She was poisoned with the Skilna Bragh while in prison. Only Turnivor's Nectar can save her now."

"Very well. Take her to the healers, and tell them what she needs. Guard her until the ceremony is completed. I will have new orders for you by then." The bald man ordered the warriors. They nodded curtly and carried Arya out of the room.

Eragon watched them leave, wishing to accompany her. His attention was suddenly given to the grunting sound coming from the armored dragon.

All looked over and were shocked by what they saw. Held down by the dragon's front right claw was a Kull, struggling to free itself. The woman noticed this and calmly walked over to the horned monster.

"STOP! If you do anything I'll have the boy killed!" The man screamed at her.

She stopped, slowly turned to him and spoke in an accent completely unknown to Eragon. "You no hurt boy." She simply stated.

The man huffed arrogantly, "and why, pray tell makes you say that?"

She points up at the large dragon holding the Urgal down, it stared down at the man like a cat eying a tasty mouse. "You kill him, nothing stop Dra'kor from turning you to ash."

The dragon now known as Dra'kor, expelled puffs of fire from his nostrils to emphasize her point. All present paled, and the woman continued towards the Urgal with the strange creature in toe. She stopped when she was just a foot away from the beast before crouching down. She grabbed the Urgal by the chin and held it steady despite its struggling. She moved its head slowly, side to side, examining its face before suddenly letting go and moving away, the creature again following her.

When they were twenty feet away, the dragon released the Kull, all present shouted in protest and the warriors unsheathed their swords. The dragon roared at this behavior and everyone present halted their actions.

The woman stared at the Kull for a moment before raising her arms up as if to flex them. Then, she swiftly shoved the blades into two sheaths hanging from her sides. She removed the sheaths, along with the bow and quiver and even the knife on her shin.

All were confused by her actions, even the Kull. Finally, bare of weapons, the woman lifted her skull helmet off of her face and placed it with the weapons, (with the black creature next to them).

Everyone gasped at what they saw.

Her face was shaped almost identical to Arya's, and she had pointed ears, making her an elf! Her skin was not pale like Arya's however, it was an exotic brown tan, and her black hair was pulled back into a long braid. Her slanted eyes were green like Arya's too, but what surprised Eragon the most was what was _on _her face.

A closed-mouth skull, with the eye and nose holes painted black along with the mouth. It gave her the look of a savage hunter, willing to kill anything that gets in her way.

She suddenly let loose a loud, animalistic scream before charging at the Kull with lightning speed. The Kull roared in response, lowered his head, and charged at the elf. Right before the collided, the elf jumped over and behind the Kull. The monster tried to turn, but its forward momentum made it trip and fall. Before it could regain its footing, the elf pounced. She jumped on his back, the elf pushed the Kull into the ground. Then she placed her right foot on his shoulder, grabbed both his horns and pulled.

Eragon's mouth hung open, along with the mouths of everyone else. They watched with amazed terror as the elf proceeded to rip the Urgal's head right off its shoulders. The head came loose with a sick crack and a wet tear. The body fell limp as the elf examined the head before raising it high and roaring victoriously into the room.

'_She is very strong.' _Saphira told him with a hint of admiration in her voice.

The elf stepped off the body, tossed the head over to the black creature, then dragged the corpse over her dragon. Eragon watched as the elf threw the body into the dragon's open mouth, where it disappeared with a gulp. He could see the lump passing down its throat.

The elf then went back to where its weapons and helmet lie, she equip them all except the helm, which hung from her hip. With her equipment donned, she turned to the bald man and glared at him with murderous eyes.

"You no look in any minds." She hissed at him. "Or you shall face wrath of Ris'ka, hunter of Screaming Skulls!"

The man tried to regain his composure, but seeing that the woman was an elf, and a very strong one at that, made him falter.

"Yo-you will not be allowed in until we know why you are here." He fearfully stuttered.

The dragon, Dra'kor, turned his serpentine neck and glared down at the gathered warriors with a hungry gaze and a viscous growl.

"We tell our reasons to your chief, not you." She stated defiantly.

The man scowled with rage, "you have no choice in this matter!"

Suddenly, a black mass tackled the bald man to the ground. Eragon was shocked to see it was the creature that had been at the elf's heel. The black beast had clamped its jaws down on the man's right hand, making him scream in pain, before tearing it off with amazing strength. Prize in mouth, the creature ran back to its elven master and gave her the hand.

"You will pay for that! Kill the boy! Kill them all!" He yelled, rage and pain clear on his face as he gripped his stump of a right hand.

"You kill any of them and we'll all be burned alive! Let that boy go NOW!" Orik commanded, the man holding Murtagh seemed more inclined to live and released Eragon's friend.

Murtagh went over next to Eragon as the bald man glared hatefully at the dwarf.

"How dare you!" The man shouted. "You question my leadership, opened the gates without permission, and now this!" He raises his severed wrist. "You've shown nothing but insolence and treachery. Do you think your king will protect you now?"

Eragon saw Orik bristle. "You would have let them die! If I had waited any longer, the Urgals would have killed them." He pointed at the group, (the elf and creature had walked to stand with them, the man's hand hanging from the woman's waist). "We don't have any right to torture them for information! Ajihad won't sanction it. Not after they've brought us Arya."

They continued to argue for who knows how long before the bald man finally passed out due to excitement, and blood loss. The dwarf had the warriors take him away to be treated before addressing Eragon, Murtagh and the elf, Ris'ka.

"Forgive me, but until this is all sorted out you will have to sleep here for the night. I will have food brought to you." Orik said.

"Thanks you, small one, have much honor." Ris'ka gave a small bow of her head in thanks.

Orik seemed taken back from the comment before nodding back. Then he and the remaining warriors left the room and bolted the doors shut from the outside.

Leaving Eragon, Murtagh and Saphira in the company of an elf strong enough to rip a nine-foot-tall Urgal's head off, a jet black beast quiet enough to sneak in a room filled with armed warriors and a dragon large enough to swallow a Kull whole.

It would be an interesting night to say the least.

* * *

**Author's Note: Done, damn this one was hard! I think I'm not going to switch perspectives with canon characters too much after this one. Too much work not enough kick ass! Anyway once again I have written my longest chapter yet coming in on over 9,000 words!**

**If any of you have any ideas thoughts about Savagery, please tell me them through either private messaging or reviews.**

**Also for those wondering: A dranther is about four-feet high at the shoulder, but Night-Scale is slightly taller. Their bodies are roughly seven feet long (not including the tail) two feet of which is their serpentine neck. Their tails are also seven feet long, to provide them with balance, their tails are extremely strong and flexible, able to grasp and hold onto branches just like a spider monkey. A dranther's head is much more pointed than an Algasaeia dragon's head, roughly the shape of a doberman's head.**

**They have very powerful legs that make them capable of jumping 50 feet from a standstill and 80 feet from a running start. Their claws are also extremely strong and very sharp. They are similar in appearance to cat claws and are between 3 to 3-and-a-half inches long. They use their claws to climb both up and down trees, (holding onto the trunk as they shimmy down it), and to hold onto large prey. Designed to dig and tear into hard scale, dranthers can slice through flesh with almost comical ease. If several packs of wild Dranthers made their way to Algasaia, local wildlife and livestock would vanish at an alarming rate. Coupled with their high intelligence, Dranthers are one of Lizar'ik's top predators, and will sometimes compete with wild raptors for territory and food.**

**Feathers flow from a crest on the top of their head all the way to the tail, they also divert a little on the front shoulders. The length of the feathers vary but they are highest between the front shoulders and thin as they reach the tip of the tail. The feathers can flex up and down like a cockatoo and ruffle to appear more aggressive.**

**I will put in more about the other creatures of Lizar'ik in my next chapter.**

**As always: please review, fav and follow Thank you!**

**DeadRich18 Out!**


	5. Chapter 4: Negotiations

**I do not own Inheritance Cycle it belongs to Christopher Paolini. I do however own the fantasy culture and the race that practices it.**

**Here it is, Chapter 4. Hope you like it!**

**Also I forgot to mention. If you're wondering scimitars look like, if any of you have seen the first AvP movie, their basically the big long wrist blades that don't retract except made of bone. You can go on the AvP wiki and type in 'scimitar' to get a better idea. But enough of that, to the story!**

**Savagery**

**Chapter 4: Negotiations**

* * *

Ris'ka watched as the small hairy creature left with the other warriors after the bald one fainted. She didn't understand why such an honorable and sensible being was placed _under_ the command of complete pervert!

For Liz'arins, the viewing of another's memories is a sign of great trust and friendship, and is reserved for family members and close friends only. The mind a sanctuary, shared by Liz'arin and familiar. For someone to forcefully try to view another's memories is considered one of the most deplorable and disgusting crimes anyone could ever commit.

It's the equivalent of rape.

And just like rape, the punishment is the severing of either the offending Liz'arin's right claw or tail and the permanent removal of their clan mark.

After the large doors were bolted shut, Ris'ka turned to examine her current companions for the night.

They were taller than the small hairy one, but still shorter than Ris'ka herself, (who was only six-and-a-half feet tall). Their cheek bones were lower than hers, their eyes less slanted, and ears rounded instead of pointed. The hair on both their heads was curly, the brown hair's was curlier than the black hair's though. Their hides were paler than hers, but the lighter tone seemed to fit them.

The one with brown hair turned from the door to face Ris'ka. Even though he was not Liz'arin, Ris'ka could tell he was young, probably just past his fifteenth rain.

"Thank you… … our minds." He said, but once again Ris'ka only understood snippets of the words.

'_I think he's thanking us for not letting that pervert into their minds.' _Night-Scale clarified.

Ris'ka gave him a small nod, "no need thank, wrong to think he allowed." Her words were mixed and broken, she could actually see the boy's confusion as he tried to decipher what she had said.

The dark haired one spoke next. "… … who are you?" These were the only words she understood from what sounded like another statement of thanks mixed with a question.

Ris'ka patted a closed fist on her chest to show she was talking about herself. "I, Ris'ka. Fighter hunter of Screaming Skulls clan." She then points to Night-Scale, "Ris'ka other third, Night-Scale, dranther." Night-Scale nods her head, surprising the pair for some reason. Finally, Ris'ka points to Dra'kor. "Ris'ka final third, Dra'kor, dragon."

The two creatures and the dragon look at them with confusion, caution and awe, before the brown one speaks with slight hesitation in his voice.

"I… Eragon." The brown haired one speaks, pointing to himself. "He… Murtagh." He points to the black hair next. "The dragon… Saphria." He points towards the blue drake, who bows her head slightly in greeting.

An awkward silence falls over them, none knowing what they should do or say.

'_Our lack understanding their words confuses them as much as it does us.' _Dra'kor spoke. _'Perhaps it would clear things up if you explain this to them.'_

"I no speak you tongue good. Words placed in head, but meaning scattered. I sorry if confuse." Ris'ka informed them curtly.

"Oh… uh … okay." Eragon replied hesitantly. "Why … our language?"

"Not from here." She told them, "from Lizar'ik."

"And where is that?" Murtagh asked, curious suspicion clear in his voice.

He brought up a very important question. Where _was _Lizar'ik? Ris'ka had no idea where or how far away they were from their jungle homeland. There were no known lands outside of Lizar'ik, and very few ever venture forth to find them. The strong waves and sea monsters make the open ocean too dangerous for even the most skilled Naga to traverse safely. The only beasts known in Lizar'ik to regularly travel the open ocean were the great island turtles; massive beasts whose mighty shells can withstand any attack, even dragon fire.

But it is very hard to tame these beasts, for they only come to Lizar'ik once every three rains, following the migrating pods of humpback whales (their favorite food). And those that are tamed are of the nomadic Naga clans that use them as mobile homes, following migrating aquatic animals like dolphins and tuna, who travel up and down Lizar'ik's shores following the rains.

But they had not traveled here by island turtle, nor by dragon wings, but by magic of the darkest kind. And now they were in a whole new land with no clue to where it was.

They were completely lost, and a lost hunter is a vulnerable hunter.

"We… we not know." Ris'ka reluctantly told them, "Sent here against will by… _Dark Ones._" She spat the name out like a curse.

Eragon looked like he was about to comment, before a large droplet of blood loudly smacked onto the ground next to him. He jumped a little from the sound of the impact, then looked up at Saphira's hole-riddled wing and rushed to her side.

Eragon ran his hands over her wings then muttered some strange words. The holes quickly closed, and as he continued to heal the dragon's scale-wounds, Dra'kor spoke to Ris'ka and Night-Scale.

'_He removes her battle scars like they are life threatening!' _Dra'kor spoke, shock mingled with revulsion in his tone. _'Why would she allow him to do such a thing?'_

'_I don't know, Dra'kor. These mammal creatures are a strange bunch that much is certain.' _Night-Scale spoke, _'have you noticed neither they nor the warriors before had familiars by their sides?'_

Night-Scale was right. Not a single one of these beings had a familiar with them, even the horned ones were without their other halves. Ris'ka suddenly felt pity for these beings, (though she did not let it show), she knew how terrible it was to be alone, but she now had both Night-Scale and Dra'kor to comfort her.

These creatures were completely alone, they had no one they could speak with about personal matters, no one to watch their tails during a hunt, and no one to guide them to the life after death. A terrible fate, Ris'ka avoided due only to the benevolence of the great Spirits.

'_She will not stop staring at me.' _Dra'kor said, interrupting her train of thought.

'_Who?' _Ris'ka asked.

'_The little dragoness, Saphira. She has barely taken her eyes off me since the doors closed.'_

Ris'ka and Night-Scale looked at the younger dragon and saw that her attention was indeed focused on Dra'kor. Amusement flowed out of Night-Scale and into Ris'ka and Dra'kor.

'_It looks like someone has set their sights on you.' _Night-Scale teased the heavily armored dragon, who just huffed small jets of smoke from his nostrils.

'_She is too young, her scales too shiny and new, and I sense no fire in her throat, only smoke. Besides, she has no scars.'_

The dragons of Lizar'ik find nothing more attractive in a potential mate than battle scars. Each scar tells the tale of a great battle with a mighty foe and how the dragon bested them in savage combat. Dragons adored their scars with great reverence and will only have them healed if they hamper their performance in flight or battle, and even then they do so with great reluctance. Even the small scratches like those on Saphira's snout would be left alone.

To see a dragon _allow _these wounds to be healed and never form scars was completely discomforting to Dra'kor, and Ris'ka could feel it.

'_Speak with her.' _Ris'ka offered. _'Ask why she lets her rider do this instead of letting them form into mighty scars worthy of admiration.'_

'_No, I will wait until I can speak this barking language more clearly, then I shall speak with the hatchling.'_

Ris'ka shrugged. She went over to the severed head of the horned one she had slain and picked it. She examined the head as she walked back towards Dra'kor, who was now lying down. Ris'ka could hear Eragon and Murtagh talking about something, but she could only understand bits and pieces. She sat down against Dra'kor side, quickly followed by Night-Scale who laid down next to her.

Ris'ka then took out her iron dagger and began removing the flesh from the skull. She scrapped away slices of thick gray hide in long strips, plucked out the eyes and tongue, (eating one of the eyes and giving the other one and the tongue to Night-Scale), cut off the ears, and peeled off layers of red muscle and white sinew.

When the outside was relatively clean, Ris'ka turned her attention inwards. This would be the more challenging since Ris'ka had never cleaned this kind of skull before. Carefully, she reached inside with her gauntleted hand and pulled out the meat, throat, sensory organs and brain, (which Dra'kor ate.)

With a majority of the skull's contents removed, Ris'ka removed a cloth from one of Dra'kor's saddle bags and wiped the blood off the skull. When she was finished, she inspected the skull one more time before tying it to the trophy netting covering Dra'kor's chest. Ris'ka split the jawbone in two and stored it away for later, intent on adding them to her necklace.

'_A fine addition to our tally.' _Night-Scale complimented as she inspected the trophy, Dra'kor nodded his helmed head in silent agreement.

Ris'ka thought so too. It was a strange skull; it bore the horns of an herbivore yet its teeth were a mismatch collection of molars and canines. It was very exotic, and Ris'ka wondered if she should wear it on her shoulder like the raptor skull she wears when out of her armor.

Her thoughts were interrupted when the door opened a crack and three bowls of something were pushed into the room, quickly followed by a brown loaf of… something and two hunks of meat.

"Finally!" Grumbled Murtagh, as he went over to the food. He tossed one of the pieces of meat to Saphira, who snapped it out of the air and swallowed quickly. Murtagh tossed the other piece to Dra'kor, but he did not eat it.

Dra'kor caught the slab of meat and lowered it to the ground for Ris'ka and Night-Scale to eat.

'_I do not hunger. The beast you slew is plenty for me now. You two have not eaten since we arrived, you must regain your strength.' _Dra'kor told them before curling himself around them protectively and closing his eyes.

The two dug into the meat with ferocity, the wet sound of tearing flesh echoed through the room. When they finished, Ris'ka used her tongue to lick off the blood covering her face then looked over at their companions for the night.

She tilted her head when she saw that Eragon and Murtagh had turned slightly green and looked as if they were about to vomit, while Saphira was looking at her with amused admiration.

"You alright?" She asked them, "You face green." She pointed at her own face to emphasize what she meant with a blood stained gauntlet, which only seemed to make them turn greener and cringe back.

"No, no, we… fine." Murtagh said, looking away while holding one arm around his waist and his other hand covering his mouth. Eragon simply put down the bowl and brown thing he was eating and pushed them away to the side as he made a gagging face and covered his mouth too.

Ris'ka just shrugged, not understanding what made them react in such a manner.

'_You'd think they never saw anyone eat meat before.' _SaidNight-Scale, amused by their reactions.

After licking the blood off her gauntlets, Ris'ka nuzzled into Dra'kor's side and closed her eyes. Night-Scale curled up right next to her, and Dra'kor covered the pair with his leathern wing. His steady heartbeat echoing softly in their ears.

'_Good night, Dra'kor. Good night, Night-Scale.' _Said Ris'ka.

'_Good night, Ris'ka. Good night, Dra'kor.'_ Said Night-Scale.

'_Good night, Night-Scale. Good night, little hunter.' _Said Dra'kor.

And the three of them dozed off into the realm of sleep.

* * *

Ris'ka was rudely torn from her slumber by the sounds of growls. They weren't Dra'kor nor Night-Shade's growls, so that left only Saphira to blame. Both her others were awake as well, Dra'kor's wing was no longer draped over them like a tent, and Night-Scale was openly glaring at Saphira.

Ris'ka didn't blame her; a hunter must be silent, even when asleep. To survive in Lizar'ik one must always be careful and quiet. Saurous are very light and quiet sleepers, the slightest change in noise will wake them from their slumber.

They also never utter a single sound or move an inch when asleep. This is another way they defend themselves from jungle predators. They remain so still that even the sharp eyes of a drawk can miss their sleeping forms.

Like all children, Ris'ka was taught how to accomplish this camouflaged slumber when she was three. Her light skin had made it difficult at first, she would often be the first found, but as the years past and her skin grew darker it became harder and harder for her to be found.

She taught these tricks to Dra'kor when he was a hatchling and still very vulnerable. He does not need to worry about most of Lizar'ik's predators now, but he still never makes a noise or move an inch when he's asleep.

Saphira, however, was much smaller than Dra'kor and her scales were so unnecessarily bright and colorful it was a wonder she had been eaten already.

And she was louder than krogar bull during a rut.

'_We are not the only ones she has awoken.' _Night-Scale gestures her head towards Murtagh.

He appeared to be still asleep, but Ris'ka's keen hearing and eyes could tell that he was very much awake. He breathed air with the kind of control one can only have when awake, and his eyelids (though closed) still blinked as if they were open.

The only two still asleep were Eragon and Saphira.

"She too loud." Ris'ka spoke in a hushed manner.

"…she is. I'… surprised Eragon… sleep…." Murtagh replied with a ghost of smile, his eyes still closed.

"How long you wake?" She asked.

Murtagh shrugged, "awhile now."

"Anyone come check?"

He shook his head, "No."

Ris'ka nodded, then turned her attention away from Murtagh and the snoring Saphira and towards her own mind. The jumbled words in her head were causing a great deal of confusion for Ris'ka and her partners of mind and soul. She decided, as long as they were stuck here, they might as well try to unscramble the vast sea of words and meanings placed in their minds by the Dark Ones.

And so, the three passed the time matching the words up with their intended meanings. Some words meant several things, while others had meanings Ris'ka didn't understand.

'_What's does it mean when it says it holds words?' _Dra'kor asked, perplexed by the meaning for the word _book_.

'_I haven't a clue. Perhaps it hears words at one moment then speaks them at a later time?' _Night-Scale offered, equally confused.

'_What would the purpose of such a thing be? Would it not be easier to just say the words then instead of having something say them later?' _Ris'ka added.

There were many of these words like bread, grain, book, paper, letters, wool, snow, ice, glass, and so many more. And none of them understood what they meant.

Eragon slid out from under Saphira's wing and asked Murtagh much the same thing Ris'ka herself. Saphira stirred awake soon after, sniffing and yawning loudly.

'_She is even loud when she wakes up. Does she have no sense of stealth?'_

'_Peace, Dra'kor, we are not in the jungles of our home, things are sure to be different. Perhaps dragons here have nothing to compete with here.' _Ris'ka suggested.

Dra'kor puffed smoke from his nostrils. _'Then the dragons here are no doubt overconfident and weak. How can they judge their true strength if there is nothing to challenge them?'_

They went on for a time until Night-Scale told Dra'kor to simply speak with Saphira about her brusque behavior. Confident that she would be a much more reliable source than their simple speculations. Reluctantly, Dra'kor agreed and began speaking with Saphira, who seemed both eager and nervous to talk with him.

As the two dragons spoke, Dra'kor relayed any information he deemed important back to Ris'ka and Night-Scale.

Saphira didn't know much about the dragons themselves, only having her instincts and passed down memories, but she told Dra'kor what she could.

She told him that once there were many dragons in this land. They were largest and fiercest predators to ever grace its skies, and no animal could hope to ever challenge them and survive, (unintentionally explaining her lack of sleep control was arrogance).

She spoke of this land's dragon riders, what they did, and how they fell. The Rex of this land, Galbatorix, and thirteen others vanquished all of the riders and the dragons that lived here. After his victory, he used vile creatures called Ra'zac and shades to enforce his rule over the people, and in his possession were the last surviving dragon eggs of the land.

She then asked him if he was one of those eggs, to which he shook his head 'no'. Dra'kor told her that Lizar'ik has dragons of its own. Ris'ka could see Saphira's eyes suddenly go wide and sparkle with joy.

Eragon, who had been inspecting one of the torches on the wall, turned to face Saphira sharply. Then he turned to Ris'ka, eyes wide as saucers.

"There... dragons… your land?" he asked, fearful hope laced his words.

Saphira had undoubtedly been relaying the information she learned to Eragon, just as Dra'kor had with Ris'ka and Night-Scale. "Yes, they one of Lizar'ik top hunters. All respect dragon."

Eragon's face burst into a huge smile, tears built up in his eyes. "Can your people… us against Galbatorix? … return dragons to …? … rebuild the riders?"

Ris'ka was about to answer, when voices from outside the room interrupted her. The door opened, and two dozen warriors march inside. The first of them gulped nervously at the sight of the two dragons, but mostly at Dra'kor.

The small hairy being named Orik came in after them. "You… summoned to Ajihad, leader of… Varden." He proclaimed. "If… eat, do… … we march."

Eragon quickly asked where their mounts were and if he could have his sword and bow back. Orik apologized, and said he would have to wait until Ajihad sees fit. The mounts were waiting for them in the tunnel.

Eragon asked about the fairings of the one named Arya. Solemnly, Orik told him he did not know, and that she was being tended to as they spoke.

Orik then left the room, quickly followed by Eragon, then Saphira, then Murtagh. Ris'ka, Night-Scale and Dra'kor brought up the rear. They went back through the corridor they had walked through the night before, passing a statue of a strange, quilled creature.

At the mouth of the huge tunnel from which they had entered the mountain, stood Orik, holding the reins of the four-legged creatures called _horses_.

Orik then gave them instructions on how they would travel through the tunnel and that they should not try anything stupid.

Eragon climbed up into Saphira's saddle, while Murtagh got on the back of the gray horse. Ris'ka gracefully jumped onto Dra'kor's back, quickly followed by Night-Scale, who climbed up his tail and sat down in her basket. Orik gave the reins of the white horse to Murtagh, then went back to the front.

Orik made a gesture at the warriors, who immediately divided into four groups of six and flanked both dragons' sides. (Though they gave them as wide a berth as possible).

Orik shouted and gestured forward with a thrust of his arm before beginning to walk. With Saphira behind Orik, Dra'kor in the middle, and Murtagh and the horses taking up the rear, the group headed into the heart of the mountain.

As they trekked, Ris'ka marveled at the tunnel they were in. The walls, floor and ceiling were completely flat, flatter than the stone streets of Liz'ara, and the tunnel itself was massive, large enough to fit two dragons Sapharia's size side by side.

Neither she nor her partners had seen such perfect stone work. Though massive stone pyramids occupy Liz'ara and several other cities, the Liz'arin know only how to maintain and repair them. The method of their construction remains a mystery. Therefore, the only building ever added into these cities are huts, cabins, or tepees made from wood, animal parts or both.

To see something like this tunnel was completely alien to her. It was also incredibly long. How did they find the time to dig it? How did they defend themselves from predators when they were making it? What tools did they use? What was at the end?

All these questions flowed through her mind as they traveled deeper into the earth spire's heart.

Twenty minutes into the tunnel, Ris'ka became bored. She began to wonder what this Ajihad was like. From what she could understand from the few times he was mentioned, Ajihad is the chief of this clan. Ris'ka, Night-Scale and Dra'kor were the champions of the Screaming Skulls, and as they have done countless times before, they would be representing their clan's power, strength and cunning. Only this time it wasn't in front of another Liz'arin clan.

Ris'ka had no idea what to do in this kind of situation, one wrong move could be disastrous. She expressed her worries to Night-Scale and Dra'kor, who eased her worries and told her to treat this as any other clan talk except with less fighting. These creatures seemed to settle things more with words than combat, so Ris'ka would need to try and tolerate acts she knew were dishonorable, even if these beings saw it differently.

For forty more minutes they walked, passing the time by sorting out the words in their heads.

'_Do they wish to take all the way through the mountain?' _Ris'ka thought to herself.

Finally. A soft white light glowed in the distance, Ris'ka's sharp eyes discerned it was cast by white, shiny stone pillars. They were encrusted with shiny, see-through rocks colored purple and red. Scores of the strange torches hung between the pillars, suffusing the air with liquid brilliance. Shiny, yellow tracery gleamed from the pillars base like threads. The carved heads of birds arched over the ceiling, their beaks open as if to screech.

They passed these strange decorations and came upon two titanic black doors adorned with lines the color of fish-scales that depicted a seven-pointed crown spanning both doors.

Before they could reach these doors however, Orik raised his hand and the whole group stopped. He walked over to be in between both dragons.

"… walk to the doors, and... they open, follow the path. Go slowly." Orik told them.

Ris'ka nodded along with Dra'kor in understanding, and followed Saphira at a measured pace. Without warning, the doors swung outwards on concealed joints. The sudden light blinded Ris'ka for just a moment, but her eyes adjusted quickly.

And her jaw fell when she saw where the doors led into.

They were inside the largest volcanic crater _any of them_ had ever seen. So high up was the opening, Ris'ka could not judge its scale. Light from the aperture beamed down and illuminated the crater's center, leaving the rest of the interior to dwell in twilight.

Moss and lichen covered the floor of the crater like grass, interrupted only by a cobblestone path that led to a small pyramid in the distance. From this distance, Ris'ka could see that it was at least half the height of Rexa'gula, though its base was much narrower. But it was not the size that marveled Ris'ka, it was the color of the pyramid.

It shone with the bright whiteness of a pearl just removed from an oyster. It was so different from the dull, stone-gray pyramids of Liz'ara. Ris'ka wondered what they used to make the stones shine in such a manner.

"Look well… no Rider has… eyes upon this… a hundred years." Stated Orik, as he began to explain what they were looking at. "The… peak under… we stand is Farthen Dûr―discovered thousands… years ago… the father… race, Korgan, while he tunneled for… … in the center stands… achievement: Tronjhiem, the… – mountain built from the purest…" He finished just as the doors halted.

Ris'ka felt Night-Scale's head push her jaw back up. _'This is no time to imitate a fish, Ris'ka.' _Night-Scale told her, after placing Ris'ka's jaw back in her mouth and walking back to her basket.

Embarrassed, Ris'ka shook her head vigorously, before setting her face into an unreadable mask of calm confidence. Dra'kor was still inside the tunnel, while Eragon had walked out into the crater.

No longer distracted by the sight of the pyramid, Ris'ka took notice the massive crowd of people huddled around the entrance, their attention focused on Eragon.

'_Someone isn't used to crowds.' _Night-Scale said, amused by how nervous Eragon was by the staring horde.

He suddenly lifted one of his hands and waved awkwardly at the crowd, before quickly lowering it and ducking his head in a flustered manner. Ris'ka could hear Night-Scale snickering behind her.

A single cheer erupted from the crowd, one of them clapped loudly, and after a brief second of hesitation the whole crowd applauded with the force of a typhoon.

'_Come, Dra'kor. Let us show them a _real_ dragon.' _Ris'ka encouraged her larger partner, who walked out of the tunnel with proud confidence.

A hush fell over the once roaring crowd, as they stared at Dra'kor. He unfurled his mighty wings and lifted them high above back, sending a huge gust of wind into the crowd, making them shriek in surprise. They all gaped in shocked fear as the full majesty of Dra'kor's armored body was revealed to them.

The many trophies that adorned Dra'kor were now visible to all present. Skulls, claws, jaws, horns, and of course, the armor herself. The skeletal armor made from his mother's bones and scales made Dra'kor look like death incarnate.

Even Eragon and Saphira, who had seen the armor, were looking at them with shock, disgust and a little fear, now that they had a much clearer look at her.

Ris'ka smirked in satisfaction.

This was good, these people now knew the strength of Ris'ka and her partners. It is customary for clan representatives to present at the least, half-a-dozen trophies when meeting another clan. Ris'ka, Night-Scale and Dra'kor all have many trophies, and the ones they favor the most are strapped to the netting on Dra'kor's body. Over two dozen trophies hung from these nets, marking them as highly skilled hunters and ruthlessly efficient warriors.

Dra'kor brought his wings back down, then gestured to Saphira to continue walking. Hesitantly, the pair turned around and marched towards the pyramid.

Ris'ka and Night-Scale looked down into the crowd as they rode towards the white structure.

Many were like Orik, short, stocky and hairy. The rest were like Eragon and Murtagh. They wore strange clothes that covered almost their entire bodies, leaving only the hands and head visible. Some had shorted sleeves that revealed pale hairy arms. But all seemed to have the same expression frozen on their face when they looked at the trio.

The look of wounded and trapped prey at the mercy of a powerful hunter.

Ris'ka paid it little mind, and focused on the upcoming pyramid. As they drew closer, she saw two massive, shiny, yellow statues of strange bird creatures guarding a massive door. Saphira stopped at the base for a moment, then continued further.

The heavy gates rumbled open, and they walked inside. Archways lining the walls were filled by more people eager to see their guests. As Eragon and Saphira entered, another loud cheer echoed from above. And just like before, it went dead silent when Ris'ka, Night-Scale and Dra'kor came into view.

Ris'ka noticed they were being bathed in a strange light and looked up.

She gasped, making Dra'kor and Night-Scale turn their gazes up as well, only to gasp in astonishment too.

A giant, red, see-through, flower shaped stone capped the pyramid's roof. The strange torches from the tunnels encircled the red shiny rock and cast everything below it in a red glow.

They were utterly speechless. _Nothing_ like this existed in Lizar'ik. The shining stone was carved perfectly in the form of a blooming flower, it seemed impossible for any mortal being to craft such a masterful thing. Only the Spirits themselves could have shaped the stone to be as it is now, it was the only logical explanation.

The people here must be highly favored by the Earth Spirits to be blessed with such a beautiful gift, (though Ris'ka wonder what its _true_ purpose was).

A gruff cough snapped the three out of their stupor to see Orik looking at them with a smug smile.

"I'm sorry… you must go on foot… here" Orik told them.

A dwarf took away the two horses. Eragon climbed down Saphira's side, while Ris'ka and Night-Scale hopped off Dra'kor. They stayed close to their dragons as they were led through a narrow corridor and several sharp turns before arriving at a large black door. Orik pulled it open and conducted all but the guards inside.

They entered an elegant, two-story room covered in rows of large shelves filled with many strange rectangles. A staircase, (made of iron, astonishingly), spiraled up to a balcony with two chairs and a table. The white torches were everywhere, lighting the whole room. The stone floor was covered by an intricate oval rug. At the far end of the room, a man stood behind a strangely shaped table.

He was no doubt Ajihad.

His hide was very different from the others they had seen. While their hides were pale, Ajihad's hide was even darker than Ris'ka's own, so dark it looked like tar. His head was bare of any hair and glistened in the light of the torches. His face hair was groomed neatly, and covered his chin and upper lip. He had a strong face, and intelligent eyes. His shoulders were broad and powerful, made more so by the red vest embroidered with yellow thread and clasped over a purple shirt. He had an air of command and dignity Ris'ka couldn't help but respect.

When he addressed them, his voice matched his body in strength and confidence. "Welcome to Tronjhiem, Riders and dragons. I… Ajihad. Please, seat…"

Eragon and Murtagh slipped into the strange, padded chairs, whilst Ris'ka remained standing, Night-Scale by her side. The dragons settled in protectively behind them, Dra'kor eyeing the dark man warily.

Ajihad snapped his fingers and two men emerged from behind the staircase. Ris'ka and Night-Scale immediately backed up and hissed viscously when they saw that they were _both _the bald man from the tunnel. Their long, robed sleeves covered their hands completely, but Ris'ka could see the one on the right was much paler looking than his left counterpart.

They glared hatefully at Ris'ka and Night-Scale, Ajihad gave them a stern look, making them wilt under his gaze, before addressing Ris'ka and her companions. "The Twins… me your minds have not… Until you let them… cannot trust you."

All three of them growled ferociously at the dark man, causing all but Ajihad to flinch back. "I not show you my thoughts. They mine and my others alone to have. Your defilers punished right for offense!" Ris'ka growls angrily, enraged that this man would have the audacity to say such a thing.

Her crude words confused and shocked all in the room, and she felt they did not understand what she meant. So Ris'ka decided to elaborate.

"In my land, memories treasured things; only share with familiar, family and friend. Is like rape for others try and view with force."

Ajihad shot the Twins an angry look before addressing Ris'ka again. "What… you mean, 'your land'?"

"Not from here. From Lizar'ik." Ris'ka told him, "Was sent here by enemies. Know not how get back. Placed words and meanings in heads, but much scattered. Is why I speak you tongue."

Ajihad looked at her for a moment, "Who are you?" He asked.

Ris'ka stood there for a moment, searching her mind for the correct words before addressing Ajihad's question.

"I am Ris'ka, champion and talker for Saurous clan, Screaming Skull. Soul-partner to dranther Night-Scale and dragon Dra'kor. And daughter of King Turok, ruler of all Lizar'ik."

* * *

"We're here. Now where are _they_?" Turok growled, as he and his pack of warriors entered the scorched clearing.

One-and-a-half days ago, a Saurous and dranther of the Scalper clan came to Rexa'gula. He told Turok that Dark Ones had captured them and all the others hunters who had vanished over the past month.

He then told him they had taken Ris'ka….

Turok's rage filled roar echoed through the entirety of Liz'ara.

He, his son and thirty of their best warriors set out on the swiftest raptors not an hour after the news of his daughter's capture reached them.

They made no stops for food or water, only halting to quickly relieve themselves before immediately getting back on the raptors. As they surged through the jungle, Turok and Swift-Bite got the same feeling they had when they were returning home with little Ris'ka.

The feeling of being watched.

They arrived at the midnight hour, the moon was at its highest peak and illuminated the clearing in soft light.

Draigo rode up to his father and sniffed the air. "Do you smell it, father?"

"Yes…" Turok replies, glaring into the shadows of the jungle. "The air is foul with dark magic."

Swift-Bite and Tail-Swipe hissed as something rustled in the brush.

'_They're here!' _Swift-Bite growled.

The raptors joined them, hissing and flexing their striking claws as shadows darted around the pack. The warriors brandished their weapons and Draigo ignited a ball of flame in his right claw. Then something emerged at the end of the clearing farthest away from the pack. Something draped in a fish-scales gray cloak.

A Dark One.

"YOU!" Turok roared, pointing his spear at the vile creature. "WHERE IS MY DAUGHTER!? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH HER!?"

It rose its arms high and yelled in a muffled voice, "Peace! We not want fight!"

"Then why did you kidnap my daughter!? What did you do with her!?" Turok screamed, held back only by the thought of his daughter being lost forever and Swift-Bite's reasoning.

'_Calm yourself, Turok. It must live if we wish to discover where they sent our daughters.'_ The dranther spoke.

Familiars help with the raising of their partner's children. Becoming a second father or mother to them. Swift-Bite viewed Ris'ka, Night-Scale and even Dra'kor as his own scale and blood, and he wanted them back as badly as Turok did.

"We send them away. Far away. Across big water. We show you way there, but you take us there. All us there." It demanded, making all Screaming Skulls and familiars present growl and hiss in rage and fury.

"How can we tell you speak truth!?"

"Do not listen to them, Rex, their tongue is a tongue of lies!"

"Kill the monster! Be done with it!"

"SILENCE!" Turok yelled, his mighty voice echoed through the trees.

He dismounted from his raptor and with Swift-Bite at his side, advanced towards the cloaked being. Dragio and Tail-Swipe made to follow, but Swift-Bite turned and shook his head at them. The Rex and dranther walked until they were just five feet away from the small cloaked figure.

"What makes you think we could even cross the open ocean? Our canoes would be smashed by the waves and the creatures that live in them." He told the Dark One with a growl.

"We know of big turtle. Big turtle cross big water, and take you and us to land with child." It said curtly.

Turok hid his shock from the statement under a stoic face. How could these creatures know of the island turtles? They barely came to Lizar'ik and the Naga clans that rode them are almost always out at sea. The Dark Ones are too far in the jungle to have even heard of such creatures, let alone their capabilities.

Turok glared down at the being, trying his best to beat down the urge to kill it. "What makes you think we would allow filth like you on the backs of the great turtles?"

"Said already: lead you to child."

"That is not what I –" Turok began, only for the Dark One to interrupt him.

"You not leave any behind." It simply stated.

Turok and Swift-Bite growled in frustrated rage. It was true, Liz'arin are pack creatures by nature. No Lizar'in, be they Naga, Ga'goyle or Saurous would abandon another to some unknown fate when they have a chance to help.

Ris'ka and her bond-partners were respected and welcomed by many clans, both in and out of the Saurous tribe. It was thanks to them that the Screaming Skulls' number of allies had doubled over the rains since her Blood Trial. Many Saurous, Naga, and Ga'goyle called them friends, and would help them in any way they could.

And this Dark One knew it.

Turok sighed. Even if he told the other clans how they could find them, many would call for his and Swift-Bite's head. The Dark Ones are hated and loathed above all others, half-soul monsters who would rather bury their dead instead of eat them.

"Why?" Turok whispered. "Why did you do this?"

The Dark One finally lowered its hands, "we want to go home. Only that."

All knew the Dark Ones were not native to Lizar'ik, having come on canoes, big enough to hold dozens of Liz'arin and familiars and still float. When the curse was placed on them and the Liz'arin tribes attacked, the canoes were destroyed. Since they cannot let the sun touch their hide, and the Liz'arin kill any they see, it is likely they could not find the time to build more and with the passage of time, loose those with the knowledge to craft them.

"We know way back, is where we send chil-"

"Ris'ka" Turok interrupts. "She is not a child."

The Dark One hesitated for a moment before continuing. "Is where we send _Ris'ka_. Simple trade: we take you to Ris'ka, you take us home."

Turok and Swift-Bite stared down the Dark One with cold gazes.

'_It's hiding something, Turok. I can smell it.' _Swift-Bite growled.

'_I know, this is _too _simple.'_

"Do you take us for fools?" Turok announces, making the Dark One flinch back slightly.

"No, no, no! Not think you fo-" The Dark One speaks franticly, but is cut off by Turok.

"Then why did you think kidnapping my children, the champions of the Screaming Skull clan, would end in you getting what you want?" He accused. "I know what your kind do, you could have just used your dark magic to hijack a turtle. Instead, you kidnap the daughters and son of the chief of the most powerful clan in the whole jungle!" He then walks forward, only a foot away from the Dark One. "What makes you think I won't just take the knowledge from your wretched mind and kill you?" He whispers threateningly, looming over the tiny thing.

"Your honor." It states "I no have any weapon, took drug to dull magic, am at mercy." It bows its head to him.

He and Swift-Bite growl angrily. It was right. Honor dictates that one may not kill those who cannot defend themselves. And this creature just stated it had dulled its own magic, so Turok could not use that as a loop-hole.

It had thought of everything.

"But why take my children…" Turok hisses.

"We use magic to view home. Is war there, our kin who walk in sun in danger, but we too few and too weak." It looks up, black, beady, goggles staring up into the Rex's angry, narrowed, slits. "You are many and you are strong, know you love battle. You get Ris'ka back, and fight what you never fight before."

The Dark One was right again. Liz'arin love combat, the allure of new foes and trophies was a tantalizing offer many chiefs would be eager to except. But Turok is a Rex, and young he may be, he knows that all offers are never what they seem.

"Let us say I were to agree to this. What would we gain besides our children back and new foes to fight?" He asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

"All us gone. Never come back." It said sternly.

Turok thought it over for a while then addressed the Dark One again. "You ask a great deal from me, any other would simply kill and eat you." The Dark One froze. "But I will not."

'_Turok?'_

"I will talk with the other chiefs, should the majority favor this venture to a new land _and_ accept traveling with your ilk, I will return and inform you."

"Thank you, great Rex, thank you." It bowed its head repeatedly in gratitude.

Turok simply huffed and walked back to his pack, Swift-Bite at his side, giving him an incredulous look. He mounts his raptor and addresses his warriors.

"Our kin is not here. She has been sent across the ocean to another land, one at war with itself." A murmur went through the pack. "We shall ride to this land on the great turtles, and shall fight foes not found anywhere in Lizar'ik!"

He could see excitement gleaming in their eyes and fang filled grins grow on their faces as the premise of his words took effect. Draigo, however looked at his father with concern and confusion.

As they rode back to Liz'ara, he spoke to his father, asking what was discussed with the Dark One.

"Many things are about to happen, Draigo." Turok told his son. "And for good or for bad your sister is now caught in a storm the likes of which we have never seen."

They rode in silence after that. A headache already started to plague Turok at the mere _thought _of the reactions from the other chiefs.

* * *

**Author's Note: AND DONE! Man this one was hard! I know I said I wasn't going to switch perspectives too much with main characters, but if the talk with Ajihad is gonna work I'll probably have to. Not sure when next update will happen. Sorry this one is shorter.**

**If you have any suggestions for the story, please state them in a private message or review.**

**As always: fav, follow and review. Thank you!**

**DeadRich18 Out!**


	6. Chapter 5

**I do not own Inheritance Cycle it belongs to Christopher Paolini. I do however own the fantasy culture and the race that practices it.**

**DEAR GOD! This chapter is horrible! I don't care what you say, this is defiantly my worst one yet. I honestly considered just skipping this whole thing or flat out cancelling the story altogether. The problem is I have a terrible memory when it comes to lines and descriptions in books so I constantly have to look back into them. This is also why this story is going to take a long ass time to write. But here it is, chapter 5, I couldn't even think of title it was so bad.**

* * *

**Savagery**

**Chapter Five**

Eragon stared at the armor clad elf woman with wide eyes and a slack jaw.

'_A princess!' _He spoke in his mind. _'I was saved by an elven princess from another land!'_

'_And a dragon Rider no less.' _Saphira added, her own shock evident.

Eragon suddenly remembered Angela's reading of an epic romance with royalty, and how he would leave Alagaësia forever. Perhaps it was to happen with this woman? She was very beautiful, but the skull paint hid too much of her face to really tell.

All in the room reacted in different levels of shock from her startling announcement.

Orik shouted what must have been a dwarfish curse and stepped back. Murtagh was staring at the elf with the same dumbstruck expression as Eragon. The Twins both went wide eyed and pale, sweat already forming on their brows and fearful expressions formed on their faces. Even Ajihad showed his surprise, eyes wide and lips parted slightly.

Ajihad's face quickly returned to its stoic mask as he looked at the elven princess, Ris'ka.

"I am honored to meet you then, Princess Ris'ka of the Screaming Skull clan." Ajihad said with a bow of his head. "But as I stated before: we cannot risk letting potential spies of Galbatorix into the Varden. Until you let us examine your mind, we cannot trust you."

Ris'ka visibly bristled at the remark. "You are chief of Varden clan, yes?" She asked, her voice surprisingly calm yet very dangerous sounding.

"Yes, I am the leader of the Varden." He confirmed.

"Then you poor chief." She stated curtly.

Once again, all in the room (except Ajihad) gawked at the bold elf. Ajihad narrowed his eyes but otherwise said nothing as Ris'ka went on to explain.

"You no trust any unless you know all things in their minds? Unless you rip every secret from their head with your defilers?" She spat, pointing at the Twins. "If any here no trust, is them! They reek of lies and evil."

Ajihad looked at the two men, who were now even paler than before and sweating so much they looked as if oil had been dumped on them. Eragon felt slight satisfaction in seeing them sweating like nervous pigs.

"If you true chief, trust your gut. Trust what it tells you when I say we mean your clan no harm." Eragon watched, captivated as Ris'ka and Ajihad proceeded to stare one another down.

No one dared move as the silent duel of wills raged between the brown skinned elf and the ebony skinned human. They held each other's gaze for one, agonizingly slow minute, before Ajihad closed his eyes and gave a deep sigh.

He opened his eyes and spoke once more to Ris'ka. "Very well, though this may be foolish, I shall allow you to stay here without being examined, but only should you agree to have one who has already been examined to be your… escort while you stay with us." Ajihad relented.

"Thank you, chief Ajihad." Ris'ka and the beast known as Night-Scale bowed their heads slightly in thanks along with the dragon Dra'kor.

'_She is strong-willed to stand against a man such as him.' _Saphira spoke to Eragon. _'She has a strong fire in her.'_

Eragon couldn't agree more. But before he could respond to Saphira's praise of the elf, Ajihad then turned his attention to him, and the boy immediately tensed.

"Rider, what is your name and the name of your dragon?" He asked.

"Eragon, sir, my name is Eragon. My dragon is named Saphira." Eragon responded quickly.

Ajihad nodded. "I am sorry, but I must ask that you allow us to examine your mind, if only to make certain that you oppose the king."

Ris'ka's eyes flared with anger, and she looked as if she was about to argue with Ajihad again. But then, the creature Night-Scale looked up at Ris'ka and shook its head. It amazed Eragon that this _dranther_ acted in such an intelligent manner. Ris'ka looked down at the beast for a moment, then let out a soft, resigned sigh.

"You wish make him escort for me?" Ris'ka asked, shocking Eragon with her assumption.

Ajihad nodded, a sly smile present on his face. "Who better to watch a rider than another rider?" Shocking Eragon further in the fact she was right.

'_And a sharp wit. She must be a great hunter.' _Saphira spoke with admiration.

"Only if look just for memories that prove his standing." She then shot a menacing glare at the sweat covered Twins. "Hurt or go deeper and I will add your skull to collection."

Ajihad narrowed his eyes at the threat, but otherwise made no attempt to retort in their defense. He gestured for one of the Twins to step forward. The left twin hesitantly approached Eragon, eying the elf, dragon and dranther with fear. He stopped a few feet from Eragon then mumbled a few inaudible words.

Eragon instinctively tensed as the man entered his mind.

The mental probe was… hesitant. The bald man seemed to be doing his best to just view information related to whether or not Eragon was with the king. He used this hesitation to his advantage and quickly set up barriers in his mind concerning Murtagh, his reading from Angela and the words of power that Brom had taught him. The probe just looked through what it could, not daring to attack his barriers, then left.

When the bald man exited his mind Eragon relaxed and let out a breath he didn't realized he was holding.

'_Are you alright, little one?' _Saphira asked concerned.

'_Yes, I'm fine.'_

"Well?" Ajihad asked. "Can this boy be trusted?"

"I have found nothing that paints him as our enemy, my lord." The twin replied with a bowed head.

The man turned to face Murtagh. "Now it is your turn."

Murtagh glared defiantly at the man and replied with one word, "No."

Ajihad's face darkened when he heard Murtagh's refusal and his eyes gained a dangerous glint.

"Though it's been twenty and three years since it last broke upon my ear… I know that voice." He stood ominously, his chest swelling.

The Twins both looked alarmed. The one who had examined Eragon quickly went over to join his brother, where they started whispering in hushed voices.

"Get up." Ajihad ordered him.

Warily, Murtagh complied. His eyes shifting between the Twins and Ajihad.

"Remove your shirt." Ajihad ordered a second time.

Murtagh replied with a shrug then pulled of his tunic.

"Now turn around." Ajihad ordered a third time.

Once more he complied, and as he pivoted to the side, light fell upon the grizzly scar on his back.

"Murtagh," Ajihad breathed, enticing a grunt of surprise from Orik. "You refuse to be probed?" Ajihad asked him.

"Yes, I won't let anyone into my head." He spoke sharply as he slipped his tunic back on.

Ajihad leaned on his desk. "There will be unpleasant consequences if you don't. Unless the Twins can certify that you aren't a threat, we cannot give you credence, despite, and because of, the assistance you have given Eragon. Without that verification, the people here, dwarf and human alike, will tear you apart if they learn of your presence. I'll be forced to keep you confined at all times – as much for your protection as for ours. It will only get worse once the dwarf king, Hrothgar, demands custody of you. Don't force yourself into that situation when it can easily be avoided."

Despite the valid reasons to allow his mind probed Murtagh shook his head stubbornly. "No… even if I were to submit, I would still be treated like a leper and an outcast. All I wish is to leave. If you let me do that peacefully, I'll never reveal your position to the Empire."

"What will happen if you are captured and brought before Galbatorix?" Ajihad demanded. "He will extract every secret from your mind, no matter how strong you may be. Even if you could resist him, how can we trust that you won't rejoin him in the future? I cannot take that risk."

"Will you hold me prisoner forever?" Demanded Murtagh, straightening.

"No," said Ajihad, "only until you let yourself be examined. If you are found trustworthy, the Twins will remove all knowledge of Farthen Dûr's location from your mind before you leave. We won't risk someone with those memories falling into Galbatorix's hands. What is it to be, Murtagh? Decide quickly or else the path will be chosen for you."

'_Just give in,' _Eragon pleaded silently, concerned for Murtagh's safety. _'It's not worth the fight.'_

Murtagh remained silent for a moment before finally speaking, the words slow and distinct. "My mind is the one sanctuary that has not been stolen from me. Men have tried to breach it before, but I've learned to defend it vigorously, for I am only safe with my innermost thoughts. You have asked for the one thing I cannot give, least of all to those two." He gestured at the Twins. "Do with me what you will, but know this: death will take me before I'll expose myself to their probing."

Eragon was surprised to see admiration in Ajihad's eyes. "I'm not surprised by your choice, though I had hoped otherwise… Guards!"

The great door slammed open as warriors rushed in, weapons ready. Ajihad pointed at Murtagh and commanded, "Take him to a windowless room and bar the door securely. Post six men by the entrance and allow no one inside until I come to see him. Do not speak to him either."

The warriors encircled Murtagh, watching him suspiciously. As they exited the study, Eragon caught Murtagh's attention and mouth, "I'm sorry."

Murtagh just shrugged, then stared forward resolutely. He vanished into the hallway with the men. The sound of their feet faded into silence.

"All but the Riders and their dragons are to leave this room. Now!" Ajihad spoke abruptly, startling Eragon a bit.

The Twins bowed and made to leave, only for Night-Scale to trip them with her tail. They nearly lost their footing, but did not fall. The glared at the intelligent animal, only to scurry away when Dra'kor lowered his head to their level and bare his teeth at them.

Eragon chuckled slightly at the display, but quickly stopped when he noticed Orik and Ajihad discussing something.

"…wait outside until I call for you. And don't let the Twins get away. I need to have a word with them." Was all Eragon was able to hear.

"Very well," said Orik, inclining his head. He closed the door with a solid thump.

A long silence followed the closing of the door, until Ajihad sat back down with a tired sigh. He ran a hand over his face and stared at the ceiling. Eragon waited impatiently for him to speak. But when nothing was forthcoming, he blurted, "Is Arya alright?"

"No…" Ajihad said with a grave expression, "but the healers tell me she will recover. They worked on her all through the night. The poison took a dreadful toll on her. She wouldn't have lived if not for you. For that you have the Varden's deepest thanks."

Eragon's shoulders slumped with relief. For the first time he felt that their flight from Gil'ead had been worth the effort. "So, what now?" He asked.

"I need you to tell me how you found Saphira and everything that's happened since," said Ajihad, forming a steeple with his fingers. "Some of it I know from the message Brom sent us, the Twins will share with me what they have found later. But I want to hear from you, especially the details concerning Brom's death."

Ajihad then turned his attention to Ris'ka, "And you, Princess Ris'ka, if what you say is true, I will need you tell me of your land and if there is a way we can contact them."

"I tell what I can." She told him bluntly, receiving a nod from Ajihad.

Eragon was reluctant to share his experiences with strangers, but Ris'ka and Ajihad were patient.

'_Go on,'_ Saphira urged gently.

Eragon shifted, then began his story. It was awkward at first but grew easier as he proceeded. When his memory faltered to recall an event, Saphira would help him remember it clearly. Ajihad listened intently, and Ris'ka had sat herself down in the chair Murtagh had been in, Night-Scale lying on the floor next to it.

Eragon talked for hours, often pausing between words. He spoke of his time in Teirm, though he kept Angela's fortunetelling to himself, and how he and Brom had found the Ra'zac. He even related his dreams of Arya. When he came to Gil'ead and mentioned the Shade, Ajihad's face hardened, and he leaned back with veiled eyes.

When his narrative was complete, Eragon fell silent, brooding on what had occurred. Ajihad stood, clasped his hands behind his back, and absently studied one of the bookshelves. After a time he returned to the desk.

"Brom's death is a terrible loss. He was a close friend of mine and a powerful ally of the Varden. He saved us from destruction many times through his bravery and intelligence. Even now, when he is gone, he's provided us with the one thing that can ensure our success – you."

"But what can you expect me to accomplish?" asked Eragon.

"I will explain in full, but first." He turned to the skull faced elf. "May I ask where you hail from, Princess, and if there is any way your people can help?"

Ris'ka looked at Ajihad, then at Night-Scale and Dra'kor. After speaking with them she told the two men where they came from.

She spoke of a land covered in forests, rivers, and swamps. Of crystal clear waters and white sandy beaches. She spoke of the animals that live there, and how dangerous they were. How even the forests' plants were dangerous. When she spoke of the dragons, Ajihad interrupted her.

"There are dragons in your homeland?" He asked, eyes wide with hope.

She nodded, "Dragons live in Lizar'ik. Many dragons."

"Is there any way for your people to know where you are? Do they possess the means to travel here?" He asked her.

"No." She told them. "No way know where we are, was sent by Dark Ones' dark magic." She all but snarled the name _Dark One_.

"Have way to travel Great Ocean though. Great Island Turtles." She told them.

Eragon stared at her blankly. How would turtles be able to carry anyone? Ajihad had shared his confusion and asked her what this was possible. She then explained that these turtles were _literally _the size of islands, and that their shells are so strong not even a fully grown dragon can break them.

"It matter not." She told them. "I just champion, if you worthy of being ally is father's to decide."

Ajihad nodded, "I would ask you to elaborate further, but we have more pressing matters. The news of Urgals' alliance with the Empire is extremely serious. If Galbatorix is gathering an Urgal army to destroy us, the Varden will be hard pressed to survive, even though many of us are protected here in Farthen Dûr. That a Rider, even one as evil as Galbatorix, would consider a pact with such monsters is indeed proof of madness. I shudder to think what he promised them in return for their fickle loyalty. And then there is the Shade. Can you describe him?"

Eragon nodded. "He was tall, thin, and very pale, with red eyes and hair. He was dressed all in black."

"What of his sword – did you see it?" Ajihad asked intensively. "Did it have a long scratch on the blade?"

"Yes," Eragon was surprised he knew about it. "How did you know?"

"Because I put it there while trying to cut out his heart." Said Ajihad with a grim smile. "His name is Durza – one of the most vicious and cunning fiends to ever stalk this land. He is the perfect servant for Galbatorix and a dangerous enemy for us. You say that you killed him. How was it done?"

"Murtagh killed him." Eragon clarified. "He shot him first in the shoulder, then right between the eyes."

"I was afraid of that," said Ajihad, frowning. "You did not kill him. Shades can only be destroyed by a thrust through the heart. Anything short of that will cause them to vanish and reappear somewhere else. It's unpleasant process, but Durza will survive and return stronger than ever."

"What is Shade?" Ris'ka asked, "Why only through heart can it die?"

Eragon was very surprised that she didn't know what a Shade was. He knew little about elves but even he knew what a Shade was and how dangerous they are, especially after having to face one himself. Did the elves of her land not have Shades?

"Shades are beings who have been possessed by evil spirits and harness great magical power. They are powerful, malevolent creatures that take joy in others suffering, and as I said earlier, they can only be killed by piercing their heart." Ajihad told her.

She looked rather shocked by this information, and so did her dragon and dranther, (the former of which shot its head straight up at the mention of evil spirits).

"They are demons?" She asked, slight fear present in her accented voice.

Ajihad shook his head, "No, demons cannot be killed by mortals, but Shades can be."

All three of them relaxed at this information, and a silence fell over the room.

Then, Ajihad broke the silence and addressed them both. "You are both enigmas, Eragon, Ris'ka, quandaries that no one knows how to solve. Everyone knows what the Varden want, or the Urgals, or even Galbatorix, but no one knows what you want. And that makes you dangerous, especially to Galbatorix. He fears you because he doesn't know what you will do next."

"Do the Varden fear us?" He asked quietly.

"You, no," Ajihad said carefully. "We are hopeful. But you, Ris'ka," He faced the Elven rider, "after parading those skulls and bones through Farthen Dûr, many will be wary of you and your… partners."

She actually _smirked_ at the information.

Ajihad then went about explaining the delicate situation they now found themselves in and what the Varden had been doing with Saphira's egg until it found its way to him.

Arya had selected to ferry the egg between the Varden and the Elves as a compromise between them thought up by Brom. But when Arya went missing a year ago, the Elves withdrew their support from the Varden. Ajihad hoped her return would also bring back the Elves support.

"Why they no help you after she vanish?" Ris'ka asked.

"I know not why, but I assume Queen Islanzandí saw Arya's disappearance as a failure to uphold our side of the agreement." Ajihad told her.

"Then she stupid Rex." She responded bluntly.

Ajihad narrowed his eyes, "you had best tame that tongue of yours, princess. Many leaders would have your head for such an insult."

"Then they petty and stupid too. A real leader would demand blood for death of clan mates, not hide in a bush like a scared mouse. To abandon ally for death of three is stupid."

Eragon was beyond shocked by her behavior. The way she spoke so rudely about those in such high stations was almost suicidal, but she didn't seem to notice or care. What kind of place would have a princess that spoke in such a common manner? They were supposed to be dainty, delicate and obedient. But Ris'ka was challenging, ferocious, strong and the complete opposite of how a princess should behave.

'_They must raise their females to be fierce in Lizar'ik.' _Saphira told him with growing admiration clear in her voice.

Ajihad just glared at her before sighing, he obviously didn't want to continue this discussion. He switched to subject to that of the Urgals and why they were here. They had taken a scrap of paper from the leader of the Urgal host that was killed. On the piece were fragmented orders for the Urgals to follow, but the Varden had only translated a bit of it. After reading what little he could, Ajihad expressed his worries that the King was gathering a combined army of Urgals and monsters.

"You should keep warriors ready in case." Ris'ka told him. "A lax hunter will become prey."

"I will consider it, but I am not sure if it will be necessary. The only Urgals who know the entrance died last night." Spoke Ajihad.

Ris'ka narrowed her eyes, but said nothing more.

They spoke more, about how they knew Eragon and Saphira were coming, about the dire state the Varden was in, the position of power he and Ris'ka were both in, and what they are to do for now.

"For now, nothing. You covered over a hundred and thirty leagues in eight days, a feat to be proud of. And you have been cast half-way around the world by magic. I'm sure both of you would appreciate some rest. And once you've recovered, we will need to test your competency in arms and magic. I will explain your options afterwards, you'll have to decide you're course then."

"And what about Murtagh?" Eragon bit.

Ajihad's face darkened. He reached from beneath his desk and lifted up Zar'roc. The sword's polished sheath gleamed in the light. Ajihad slid his hand over it, lingering on the etched sigil. "He will stay here until he allows the Twins into his mind."

"You can't imprison him," argued Eragon. "He's committed no crime!"

"You cage him on no charge?" Ris'ka glared at the man sitting before them.

"We can't give him his freedom without being sure that he won't turn against us. Innocent or not, he's potentially as dangerous to us as his father was," The dark man said with a hint of sadness.

The dranther huffed at his words.

Eragon realized he wouldn't be convinced otherwise, and his concern _was_ valid. "How were you able to recognize his voice?"

"I met his father once," was all Ajihad said. He tapped Zar'roc's hilt. "I wish Brom had told me he had taken Morzan's sword. I suggest that you don't carry it within Farthen Dûr. Many here remember Morzan's time with hate, especially the dwarves."

"Would they not happy seeing enemy's weapon as trophy of new Rider?" Ris'ka asked, seemingly confused by Ajihad's words. "He mock enemy by using enemy weapon."

"No, they despise Morzan and everything related to him. Carrying his sword will only make things difficult for Eragon while he is here."

Ajihad returned Zar'roc to Eragon. "That reminds me, I have Brom's ring, which he sent as confirmation of his identity. I was keeping it for when he returned to Tronjheim. Now that he's dead, I suppose it belongs to you, and I think he would have wanted you to have it." He opened a drawer in the desk and took the ring from it.

Eragon accepted it with great reverence. The symbol cut into the face of the sapphire was identical to the tattoo on Arya's shoulder. He fit the ring onto his index finger, admiring how it caught the light.

"I…I am honored." He said.

Ajihad nodded gravely, then pushed back his chair and stood. He faced Saphira and Dra'kor and spoke to them, his voice swelling in power. "Do not think I that I have forgotten you, O mighty dragons. I have said these things as much for your benefit as for your Riders. It is even more important that you know them, for to you falls the task of guarding them in these dangerous times. Do not underestimate your might nor falter at their sides, because without you they will surely fail."

Eragon was surprised when both Dra'kor and Night-Scale growled loudly at his words. Ris'ka placed a bone-gauntlet hand on both to calm them. She then turned her skull painted face towards Ajihad.

"They say not underestimate her, she is best hunter in Lizar'ik. For she slain many foes, hunted mighty prey and collected many skulls. She is faster than any, stronger than any and fiercer than any. She is our third, do not insult her again."

Ajihad raised an eyebrow, "_they?_" He asked.

Ris'ka nodded, "Night-Scale is dranther, dranther just as smart as dragon. Know how speak with mind."

Eragon was again shocked by what she said. The creature beside her was as intelligent as a dragon? Perhaps it was related to dragons. He noticed it did have a kind of… draconic appearance to it.

"I apologize then, for I meant no disrespect. But these are dark times, and you will no doubt be the only thing keeping your 'third' from certain death."

Dra'kor growled lightly, but did nothing more, while Night-Scale just glared at him. Saphira then lowered her head so that her eyes were level with those of Ajihad's. They stared at each other silently, neither of them blinking. Ajihad was first to move. He lowered his eyes and softly spoke, "It is indeed a privilege to meet you."

'_He'll do,' _Saphira said respectively. She swung her head to face Eragon. _'Tell him that I'm impressed both with Tronjheim and with him. The Empire is right to fear him. Let him know, however, that if he had decided to kill you, I would have destroyed Tronjeim and torn him apart with my teeth.'_

Eragon was hesitant to relay her message, surprised by the venom in her voice, but he conveyed it nonetheless. Ajihad looked at her seriously. "I would expect nothing less from one so noble – but I doubt you could have gotten past the Twins."

'_Bah!'_

"HA!"

They turned to see an amused smirk on Ris'ka's face; the painted skull on her face made it look very menacing. "They have less power than newborn. We break their minds like tiny egg." She emphasized this by squishing her fingers together.

Eragon took the chance to elaborate what she meant. "A Rider's dragon strengthens his magic beyond what a normal magician might have. Brom was always weaker than me because of it. I think that in the absence of the Riders, the Twins have overestimated their power."

Ajihad looked troubled by this news. "Brom was considered one of our strongest spell weavers. Only the elves surpassed him. If what you say is true, we will have to reconsider a great many things." He bowed to Saphira and Dra'kor. "As it is, I am glad it wasn't necessary to harm any of you." Saphira dipped her head, but Dra'kor just looked at him.

Ajihad then straightened himself with a lordly air and called, "Orik!" The dwarf hurried into the room and stood before the desk, crossing his arms. Ajihad looked at him with an irritated frown. "You've caused me a great deal of trouble, Orik. I've had to listen to one of the Twins all morning about your insubordination. They won't let it rest until you are punished. Unfortunately they're right. It's a serious matter that cannot be ignored. An accounting is due."

Orik's eyes flickered towards Eragon, then Ris'ka, but his face betrayed no emotion. He spoke quickly in rough tones. "The Kull were almost around Kòstha-mérna, when six… water serpents shot out from the lake and blocked their path. Those in the back were firing arrows at the dragons, Eragon, Murtagh, and Ris'ka, but the Twins did nothing to stop it. Like… sheilvan, they refused to open the gates even though we could see Eragon shouting the opening phrase on the other side of the waterfall. And they refused to take action when Eragon did not rise from the water. Perhaps I did wrong, but I couldn't let a Rider die."

"I wasn't strong enough to get out of the water myself," offered Eragon. "I would have drowned if he hadn't pulled me out."

Ajihad glanced at him, then asked Orik seriously, "And when Night-Scale tore off the Twin's hand? Why did you order the men to stand down and release Murtagh?"

"You rather have two dragon Riders as enemies and many warriors dead? Or two Riders as allies and only one person hurt?" Ris'ka offered him a strange choice.

"You want punish wrong one. More hear from Orik, more it seem like Twins are to problem, not him."

Orik looked at the elf with thanks before addressing Ajihad, his chin raised high in defiance. "She's right, I wasn't about to make these Riders our enemies just to defend the Twins lust for knowledge, and I wasn't going to have all of us reduced to ashes by it either."

"No, you did the right thing, and saved many lives by doing it." Ajihad fingered his dense beard. "Your actions were honorable, but you did defy a direct order from your commander. The penalty for that has always been death."

The sound of a blade being drawn was heard and before any could even think, Ris'ka had the point of her wrist blade pressed against Ajihad's throat. Eragon jumped out of his seat and went to draw Zar'roc, but Night-Scale leapt in front of him and bared her teeth. Orik stepped back with a curse and drew his axe. Saphira growled but was overpowered by the snarl of Dra'kor. Ajihad's hands were raised and his eyes were locked on Ris'ka's.

"You are very, very stupid fool." She spat at him. "You want kill man who brought you great allies just because he not listen to stupid, pervert commanders?!"

"A subordinate must always follow the orders of his superiors. It's how it has always been." Ajihad spoke calmly. "But, due to the circumstances, I believe the sentence can mitigated."

Ris'ka lowered her blade, but did not sheath it. "Orik, as of now you are removed from active service and forbidden to engage in any military activities under my command. Do you understand?"

Orik's face darkened, but then he only looked confused. He nodded sharply. "Yes."

"Furthermore, in the absence of your regular duties, I appoint you the Riders' guide for the duration of their stay. You are to make sure they receive every comfort and amenity we have to offer. Saphira and Dra'kor will stay above Isidar Mithrim. Eragon and Princess Ris'ka may have quarters wherever they want. Once Eragon has recovered from his long journey and Ris'ka from her arrival here, take them to the training fields. They're expecting them." Said Ajihad, a twinkle of amusement in his eye.

"A guide for escort?" Ris'ka asked, amusement in her voice. "Maybe I misjudge you, Chief Ajihad."

Orik bowed low. "I understand."

"Very well, you all may go. Send in the Twins as you leave."

Eragon bowed and made to leave, when a thought appeared in his head, he turned and asked, "Where can I find Arya? I would like to see her."

"No one is allowed to visit her. You will have to wait until she comes to you." Ajihad looked down at his desk in clear dismissal.

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**Author's Note: … I don't even care with this chapter. I have decided that unless absolutely necessary I will not use cannon characters POV for this story EVER AGAIN it's just too hard to make it sound real.**

**Feel free to complain after such a long wait, I deserve it will this piece of crap. But I'm starting to have doubts on whether or not I should even continue if I keep taking this long.**

**Want me to stop or go one? Please let me know, either with private message or review.**

**DeadRich18 Out!**


	7. Chapter 6: Settling In

**I do not own Inheritance Cycle it belongs to Christopher Paolini. I do however own the fantasy culture and the race that practices it.**

**I am happy to say that this chapter is much better than the last. Thank you for encouraging me to continue this savage elf's story! Thank you all!**

**Also I have edited the description of the skull mark. It is no longer an open mouth skull, instead the lips are crisscrossed with black to look like teeth. I figured a screaming skull on a screaming warrior was sort of redundant.**

* * *

**Savagery**

**Chapter Six: Settling In**

They all exited Ajihad's room, Ris'ka felt stiff and sore from sitting in that chair for so long, and Eragon seemed to feel the same way. They both stretched in the hall. Behind them, the Twins entered the room and closed the door behind them. Ris'ka didn't like them one bit, after hearing what they did she was sure they were up to something.

'_Vile creatures, those two are. I can feel it in my gut.' _Dra'kor said, disgust dripping in his voice.

'_They're not good tasting either.' _Night-Scale added. _'He's blood tasted so rancid I thought I was about to vomit, ugh!' _She shook her head rapidly in memory of his blood in her mouth.

"I'm sorry that you're in trouble because of us." Ris'ka heard Eragon apologize to Orik for his removal from battle.

"Don't bother yourself," grunted Orik, tugging at his face hair. "Ajihad gave me just what I wanted."

Ris'ka was surprised by this statement, as were her companions. "What you mean?" She asked. "You no fight now, no train, all you do is show us round. How that what you want?"

During Eragon's _incredibly _long narration of his journey to this mountain, Ris'ka, Night-Scale, and Dra'kor had not only been listening, but matching more of the words and meanings in their heads so that they could better understand those around them.

This didn't mean it was any easier to _speak_ the words. The lip movements required to produce many of the words were difficult and foreign feeling, and often sounded like barking gibberish. She'd pick her native tongue over this guttural language any day.

The tiny creature eyed them quietly. "Ajihad is a good leader, despite what you might think." He pointed sternly at Ris'ka before continuing. "He understands how to keep the law yet remain just. I have been punished by his command, but I am also one of Hrothgar's subjects. Under his rule, I'm still free to do what I wish."

Orik was part of a different clan? It would explain why he looked so different from Eragon and the others. Ris'ka realized he must be from not only a different clan, but a different tribe as well. It would also explain why the horned ones called _Urgals_ looked so different from Orik and Eragon's people.

But unlike the Liz'arin, there seemed to animosity between the tribes here. The way Eragon described the Urgals made them sound like nothing more than animals who love nothing but killing, and how Orik's people glared at them and walked away when they arrived showed clear disproval to their presence. It confused Ris'ka, tribes were different from each other, yes, but they were all connected by the Great Spirits. It is true that some Liz'arin dislike those from other tribes, but they still respect them. She would need to ask them about it sometime.

"Ajihad just placed you in a powerful position, didn't he?" Asked Eragon, realization dawning on him.

Orik emitted a deep, barking noise. "That he did, and in such a way the Twins can't complain about it. This'll irritate them for sure. Ajihad's a tricky one, he is. Come, you two, I'm sure you're hungry. And we have yet to get your dragons settled in."

Saphira hissed for some reason, and Eragon seemed offended. "Her name is Saphira."

Orik made a small bow to her. "My apologies, I'll be sure to remember that." He then looked at Dra'kor, "and what of you, mighty one? What is your name?"

"He is Dra'kor and dranther is Night-Scale." Ris'ka told him, receiving a nod in return.

Orik then took a strange orange torch from the wall and led them down the hallway.

"Can others in Farthen Dûr use magic?" Eragon asked, he seemed to be struggling to keep up with Ris'ka and Orik's brisk pace. He was also cradling his sword very strangely, hiding the strange symbol on its sheath with his arm.

"Few enough," said Orik with a swift shrug under his metal ring shirt. "And the ones we have can't do much more than heal bruises. They've all had to tend to Arya because of the strength needed to heal her."

"Except the Twins." Eragon added.

"Oeí," grumbled Orik. "She wouldn't want their help anyway; their arts are not for healing. Their talents lie in scheming and plotting for power – to everyone else's detriment. Deynor, Ajihad's predecessor, allowed them to join the Varden because he needed their support… you can't oppose the Empire without spell casters who can hold their own on the field of battle. They're a nasty pair, but they have their uses."

Night-Scale growled quietly at this, she despised those two greatly and would gladly tear them apart. She wasn't alone in that regard either; Ris'ka and Dra'kor both shared her distaste for the two perverts and would happily gut them like the rats they are.

They entered one of the four tunnels that divided Tronjheim. Clusters of the two tribes strolled through it, their voices echoing loudly off the polished floor. The conversations stopped abruptly as they saw Saphira and Dra'kor; scores of eyes were fixed on them and many backed away in fear when they gazed at Dra'kor.

Orik ignored the spectators and turned left, heading towards one of the pyramid's great gates.

"Where we going?" Ris'ka asked.

"Out of these halls so Saphira and Dra'kor can fly to the dragonhold above Isidar Mithrim, the Star Rose. The dragonhold doesn't have a roof – Tronjheim's peak is open to the sky, like that of Farthen Dûr – so they, that is, you, Saphira and Dra'kor, will be able to glide straight down into the hold. It is where the Riders used to stay when they visited Tronjheim."

"Won't it be cold and damp without a roof?" asked Eragon.

"Nay." Orik shook his head. "Farthen Dûr protects us from the elements. Neither rain nor snow intrude here. Besides, the hold's walls are lined with marble caves for dragons. They provide all the shelter necessary. All you need to fear are the icicles; when they fall they've been known to cleave a horse in two."

'_It sounds like a fine den for rest.' _Dra'kor commented. _'It will be good to stretch my wings after being confined in that small room for so long.'_

'_And we need to get you two out of your armor and into something more casual.' _Night-Scale added.

Ris'ka agreed. While neither her nor Dra'kor's armor is a hindrance to their movement and provides them with great protection, they weren't necessary to wear right now. Also, it would be a grave insult to their hosts if they kept their armor on during their stay. They would think the three of them didn't feel safe while in their care or that they had little confidence in their strength to defend their home.

It is always imperative that a Liz'arin be gracious and polite when visiting another's home. Especially if the guest is the champion of a different clan. Their actions, intentional or not, would reflect their clan as a whole in the host's eyes.

This meant always asking for the host's permission, not wearing one's armor unless absolutely necessary, carrying _at most_ two weapons, (unless told otherwise), and adhering to their rules at all times, even if they go against your own.

These are the four main rules a Liz'arin must abide by when staying with another outside their clan or family. Ris'ka has always followed these rules to the best of her abilities, but she has on more than one occasion spoken out when she disagreed with her host during the many clan talks she has been a part of.

Though many would expect the chiefs to be angry and offended by her defiance, a good deal were actually impressed by her backbone to stand up to them, considering she was much more… _squishy_ than they were. Of course, there were many who were greatly offended by her disrespect towards them, and often demanded a duel of honor to compensate for her rudeness.

Which they would then lose.

Ris'ka and Night-Scale's speed and strength allowed them to overpower the offended challenger with great ease. But they have not always had swift victories. There are many chiefs in Lizar'ik whose own strength, speed and cunning were on par with their own.

Those duels were long and grueling fights that Ris'ka and Night-Scale won by either tiring out their opponents or by sheer luck.

After they won these duels, the defeated chiefs would often respect them and apologize for making a fuss over the issue of the duel, and act as if nothing happened.

This is because holding a grudge against someone who has proven their worth is considered the pettiest thing a Liz'arin can do, chief or not. Liz'arin accept defeat with dignity, just as they accept victory with humility.

_One may boast over defeating a mighty beast, but they must never boast over defeating a fellow warrior._

The group exited Tronjheim through the same gate they had entered. The shiny, yellow creature-statues gleamed from the light of the many torches. The sun had moved during Eragon's story, no more light entered through the mountain's mouth, and the hollowed out interior was cloaked in black. The great pyramid was the only source of illumination now, sparkling with such brilliance it light the ground around it for hundreds of feet.

Orik pointed at Tronjheim's white pinnacle. "Fresh meat and pure mountain water await you up there," he told the dragons. "You may stay in any of the caves. Once you make your choice, bedding will be laid down in it and then no one will disturb you."

"I thought we were going to go together. I don't want to be separated," protested Eragon.

He was indeed freshly bonded with his dragon. Ris'ka remembered when she and Night-Scale were like him, never wanting to be separated from Dra'kor even during training. But they had overcome the stress brought from being separated from each other long ago.

Eragon, however, was very reluctant to part with his other half.

Orik turned to face them. "Rider Eragon, Rider Ris'ka, I will do everything to accommodate you, but it would be best if Saphira and Dra'kor wait in the dragonhold while you eat. The tunnels to the banquet halls aren't large enough for either of them to accompany us."

"Why can't you just bring me the food in the hold?" Ris'ka was shocked by his words. To ask a host such a thing as bringing his food to his quarters was extremely insulting. Did he truly not realize the how long it would take to bring food all the way to the top of this pyramid?

"Because," said Orik with a guarded expression, "the food is prepared down here, and it's a long way to the top. If you wish, a servant could be sent up to the hold with a meal for you. It will take some time, but you can eat with Saphira then. The same goes for you, Rider Ris'ka, if you wish."

Ris'ka again was shocked. Instead of being offended by his request, he said he would provide it if they truly desired to dine with their dragons. She knew that as a dragon Rider one has privileges, but nothing like this.

Eragon looked at Saphira for a time, speaking with her no doubt, he then spoke to Orik. "I'll eat down here."

Orik smiled, satisfied by his answer before turning to Ris'ka. "And you, Rider Ris'ka?"

She shook her head. "Thank you, but I no hungry now. Need change out of armor and remove Dra'kor's armor. Thank you for offer though." She bowed her head slightly.

"Are you sure, Princess? All you've had to eat was the bread and soup we gave you in the tunnel." Orik protested.

"You gave us meat." She told him bluntly.

Orik stared at her wide-eyed for a moment before speaking again. "That… was for the dragons." He deadpanned.

"Dra'kor not hungry then, full of Urgal, let me and Night-Scale have meat."

Orik just stared at her for a moment, then muttered something Ris'ka couldn't understand. "Very well then," he said after his muttering. "I have no right to deny any of you your rest after such events."

Ris'ka bowed her head in thanks, then jumped up onto Dra'kor, followed by Night-Scale. Once Night-Scale's straps were secured they took off and headed towards the pyramid's peak. Saphira was close behind them, clutching her Rider's sword and saddle in her claws. Once they were above the white pyramid, they saw the floor of the dragonhold was in fact, the large stone flower that capped Tronjheim.

They descended silently, first Dra'kor then Saphira. They both landed with the sound of clacking claws. Several large pieces of meat and two big bowls filled with water were placed at the edge of one of the caves surrounding the stone, Saphira wasted no time and immediately set about devouring the meat laid before them.

'_I will find us a suitable cave, you two bring back one of the bowls and some of the meat.'_ Night-Scale told them as she hopped off Dra'kor and set about inspecting the presented caves. It didn't take long before she made her choice, sitting at the front of one of the larger caves in the hold that was level with the star sapphire.

With their cave chosen, Dra'kor and Ris'ka went over to the piles of food presented to them. Ris'ka inspected the meat, before grabbing four, juicy, fresh slabs of meat and slinging two of them over her shoulders, while dragging the rest behind her. Dra'kor took one drink of the water before grabbing the bowl with his powerful jaws and lifting it up.

The two then made their way to Night-Scale who moved to the side as Dra'kor entered the cave. Gently, Dra'kor placed the bowel down on the ground, letting Night-Scale have a taste of the water. It was a high bowl though, so she had to stand on her hind legs and crane her neck down to get a drink. Ris'ka let the slabs of meat fall to the ground with a wet thud, rolling her shoulders a bit to loosen them after carrying the heavy flesh.

Dra'kor picked up two of the slabs and walked over to the massive cushion at the end of the cave where he laid down. He dropped them in front of himself and began tearing into one with great ferocity. The other two were for Ris'ka and Night-Scale. Though she had told Orik they were not hungry, she had not been completely truthful. Yes they weren't starving, but neither were they full. Food had already been brought up here so Ris'ka saw no reason to take advantage of his generous hospitality after being so rude to one of the clan leaders here.

Ris'ka would eat later though, she wanted to get out of her armor. She started by removing her belt from her waist and placing it down on the ground. Next came the gauntlets, then the bracers, the boots, and the suit itself. She was now completely naked, (save her necklace), warriors seldom wear anything under their armor. Her clothes were in one of the saddle bags on Dra'kor, but she would retrieve them tomorrow.

Night-Scale was now gorging herself on her own slab of meat, ripping into it with her powerful vice-like jaws. Dra'kor by now had finished his own and was now licking the blood from his claws. Saphira was still gorging on the meat they had not taken and quenching her thirst with the mountain water. Ris'ka went over and drank from their own bowl of water, sating a thirst she didn't realize she had.

Once she drank her fill, Ris'ka made her way towards Dra'kor and began the long process of taking off his armor. Two thirds through the removal, Saphira took off, heading back down to collect her own Rider.

Each plate was removed with great care, until only the netting, trophies, were left on him. Ris'ka placed the saddle and the bags down next to the armor then turned to look at her partner. Even without his armor, Dra'kor was an intimidating sight. Scars from battle and hunting adorned his scaled hide. Three claws marks ran down the right side of snout (courtesy of a carnasour), a large grizzly scar ran across his left hind leg (a grazing from a stegadon horn), and dozens of smaller scratch and bite marks dotted his red-obsidian hide.

At the base of his neck, where the netting around his chest is broken by the mighty muscle, an array of skulls surrounds it. A grim necklace made from the skulls of the warriors and familiars they felled in battle.

Dra'kor shook himself after the armor was completely removed, making the bones rattle. _'Thank you, Ris'ka, it was beginning to become irritating wearing her these past few days.' _He told her.

'_And you two wonder why I dislike wearing my armor.'_ Night-Scale added as she snapped up the last of her meat.

'_We can't all be as nimble and sly as you, Night-Scale. Some of us like to actually attack our opponents instead of dancing around them.' _Ris'ka teased her, enticing a huff from the dranther.

'_Well forgive me for my preference to kill with more finesse than a rage blinded carnosaur.' _She retorted, making Dra'kor chuckle.

'_I would have said an angry raptor mother, but rage blinded carnosaur works to.' _He commented.

Ris'ka laughed out loud at the friendly bickering, but the joy slowly left as the current situation sank in and a frown formed on her face. She removed her necklace and placed it on one of the saddle bags. Then she undid her braid and let her waist length hair flow down her back like an obsidian waterfall, before setting herself down against Dra'kor.

Sensing her distress, Night-Scale grabbed the remaining slab of meat and dragged it over to Ris'ka. Once she and the meat were close enough, Dra'kor draped his mighty wing over them, isolating them from the outside world.

The meat left an ugly stain trail on the cushion as Night-Scale brought it closer to Ris'ka before dropping it right next to her. She then tore of a chunk with her teeth and offered it to her.

'_Ris'ka?' _Night-Scale asked as she nudged her tattooed arm. _'What is the matter?'_

'_You have been uneasy ever since we spoke with Ajihad. Please, tell us what ails you, little hunter.' _Dra'kor's own concerned voice chimes in.

Ris'ka sighs, she takes the offered meat from Night-Scale and eats it. She chews for a moment, then swallows. _'I am afraid…' _She finally states, bringing her knees up to her chest and hugging them. _'Afraid of this strange new place.'_

'_This place is strange and new, yes.'_ Dra'kor concurred, a rumbling hum emitting from his throat. _'And those who inhabit it are just as bizarre. You would be a fool not to feel some fear in this situation.'_

'_But do not fear all of it, look at what scares you as challenges.'_ Night-Scale adds, nuzzling her shoulder. _'Challenges that will earn you mighty titles and exotic trophies!'_

'_But what of our father?'_ She asks, panicked sorrow entering their mental link. _'What of mother, brother and our clan? What will they do when we do not return, now that I failed to report what had taken the hunters? What if this was all to lure me away and leave Liz'ara without any warning of the Dark Ones presence? What if-'_

'_There are too many what ifs in life, little hunter.' _Dra'kor interrupted her. _'Our father will not be felled by those filthy sun-dodgers. If they dare to even _think _of attacking our home, they will be butchered before they can even set foot in it.'_

'_Our family is just as strong as we are, Ris'ka.' _Night-Scale comforted. _'Sa'gaza and Bright-Feathers are mighty hunters, capable of killing a forty foot crocolisk with nothing but their bare claws and wit.' _She was referring to how they pasted their Blood Trial.

'_And Draigo and Tail-Swipe both excel in the shamanistic ways of magic. They have already felled four other shamans of tremendous power in the past clan battles and he is well on his way to becoming the next High Shaman.' _Dra'kor added.

'_And our father…' _Night-Scale began. _'He and Swift-Bite are the riders of the great carnasour, Car'tor the gore-fanged. They are destined to accomplish mighty deeds and fall powerful foes. The skulls of hundreds line their trophy room.'_

'_They are Saurous of the Screaming Skulls, they charge into battle screaming for blood and skulls, and hunt with the cunning of the jungle herself. They are of the strongest clan in all Lizar'ik; no Dark One would last a second against them.' _Dra'kor spoke again.

'_And we are their kin.' _They spoke as one. _'We are the champions of our clan, our father's right claw. We lead our clansmen into battle with hearts full of fury and thunder. We leave scores of dead in our wake and add their strength to our own. Our collection of trophies is rivaled only by our father's own. We are three of the mightiest warriors in all Lizar'ik.'_

'_But we are no longer _in _Lizar'ik.' _The sound of Saphira landing entered their ears and they ceased their talk. Dra'kor lowered his head and closed his eyes, feigning sleep. When she nor Eragon entered their cave, Ris'ka began speaking again.

'_This is not our land. The air is cold, the trees are odd, the mountains huge and the people strange. They wear clothing crafted in shiny metal and live in a hollow mountain. They wear no clan marks and have no familiars. They punish those with honor and let those without it run free. But these are not what scares me the most.'_

'_You fear we will never see our home again.' _SpokeNight-Scale, as she nuzzled Ris'ka's shoulder again.

'_Yes.' _is all Ris'ka responds with.

'_It is a reasonable fear to have.' _Dra'kor commented. _'But remember: just because we know no way to return home does not mean there aren't any.'_

'_He's right, Ris'ka.'_ Night-Scale added, tearing off another chunk and giving it to her. _'These people we now live with may have a way for us to cross the ocean and find Lizar'ik.'_

'_Even if they have ways to cross the great sea, they would not give it to us out of goodwill.' _Ris'ka said as she ate the provided meat._ 'We would need to earn the right to use them.'_

'_Then we will show them we are worthy.' _They both said, _'we will earn their trust and acceptance as we had with the dozens of clans we befriended in Lizar'ik.'_

Ris'ka let out an exhausted sigh as she finished eating a third chunk. _'It's just so much at once…'_

'_We know, little hunter.' _Said Dra'kor.

'_We are here for you.'_ Spoke Night-Scale.

'_We will never abandon you.' _They said in unison.

Ris'ka knew they never would, but hearing it still brought her great comfort. She felt more tired than hungry now and curled up against Dra'kor's warm side. Night-Scale dragged the slab of meat off the cushion before going back and curling up against Ris'ka's side.

'_Sleep well, Night-Scale. Sleep well, Dra'kor.'_

'_Sleep well, Ris'ka. Sleep well, Dra'kor.'_

'_Sleep well, Night-Scale. Sleep well, little hunter.'_

And with that, the trio closed their eyes and drifted off into sleep.

* * *

Ris'ka woke from her slumber silently, happy to not be awoken by the heavy breathing of a certain blue dragoness. She stirred both her companions awake with a mental nudge. Both Night-Scale and Dra'kor rose from the cushion and stretched, arching forward and letting out long, silent yawns.

The meat from last night was still there, and Ris'ka was still hungry. After a few stretches of her own, she went over and consumed the large haunch. Once finished, she licked her fingers and face clean of blood and went over to their saddle bags.

Once she was there, Ris'ka pulled out her casual clothing. A top, a loincloth, a pair of sandals, two shin guards, and the bone bracelet Draigo gave her when they were little.

The top and loincloth were gifts from one of the smaller Saurous clans, the Web Weavers. They farm the webs of the large Yellow Widow Spider to create the most comfortable fabric in all of Lizar'ik.

Silk.

They are not a strong clan, however, and rarely ever win more than two battles during clan fights. But their secret of farming silk from one of the largest and deadliest spiders in Lizar'ik is guarded to the point only their head weavers know how to coax the silk from the spiders without getting killed. They are also one of the few clans that actually farm animals for food.

While many see this method as weak, Rex Turok saw the potential in having an ally that could produce its own food. (Though he to preferred hunted food over farm food any day.)

Three rains ago, Ris'ka was able to broker an alliance with them. In return for supplying their warriors with fine weapons and providing protection should they come under attack, the Web Weavers will provide the Screaming Skulls with food during poor rains. To solidify the agreement, several articles of silk clothing were given as gifts. She shared them with her family, who would wear them only during special celebrations as to not dirty them. Ris'ka wore hers more often, only when she went on hunts or battle would she change into something else. The silk felt so soft and gentle against her squishy hide, more so than leather or other cloth.

She even placed a spell on the clothes so they would not be worn down by time or use. A bit vain, yes, but when the only other options are coarse linen and rough scales, you can let a few things slide.

The top and loincloth were dyed the same dark red as Dra'kor's scales and fit her like a glove.

The loincloth covered both her front and bottom in a long vertical rectangle. Her nethers were covered by a silk cloth that hid behind the loincloth. It was all held together by another long strip of silk, only this one was elastic and could stretch to fit its wearer's size.

The top covered a good portion of her large chest from prying eyes. A large strap held it up at the left shoulder, covered by a thick, leather pad for the raptor skull to rest. It was the skull of a young raptor, an adult would have been too large for her petite form to carry, (plus it would have looked very silly). But today, Ris'ka decided to wear a different skull.

She donned her clothes, placed the bracelet on her right wrist, put on her sandals, tied on the shin guards, and wrapped her belt around her waist, but left the scimitar sheaths on the ground. She would carry only her spear and knife today. The other weapons would stay in the cave.

After equipping herself with clothing and weapons, Ris'ka took several more items from one of her saddle bags. A drill, a comb, a small bone saw, some dried sinew string, and the two broken pieces of the Urgal jaw.

Ris'ka first combed her long hair with the dragon bone comb, (a dragon carved on its hilt). After a good five or so minutes of combing, she put it back in the bag and began braiding it.

When Ris'ka was little, her hair would never stop growing, even after having it all cut, it would just grow back. It was very frustrating, her hair kept getting stuck in branches and bushes when she ran, and strands of it left behind made it easy for her to be tracked. Then, one day her brother came up with the idea of braiding it. And after several… failures, they created what they dubbed, the lemur tail braid.

For a while Ris'ka required the aid of her brother to successfully tie the braid, but after several rains she was able to do it all by herself. Of course, she still cut her hair now and then, but only to a certain length, not all of it.

With her hair braided, Ris'ka whipped her head back and forth a few times to make sure it was secure but not too tight on her scalp. Satisfied, she turned her attention to the jaw bones and the drill.

She sat down, cross-legged, took the drill in one hand and one of the bones in another. Then she began the careful process of drill a hole large enough to fit her necklace string through.

Thankfully, the drill was made of iron, crafted by the only clan with knowledge of smithing and mining.

The Iron Hide clan.

A relatively small but powerful clan, the Iron Hides are the makers of any and all metal tools, weapons and armors in Lizar'ik. They delve into the catacomb-like caverns that riddle the Serpent's Back, searching for iron ore, the only useful metal in Lizar'ik, (the other being some shiny, useless, yellow metal that covers the caves like lichen). They never go too deep however, many things lurk in the earth below Lizar'ik, most of them deadly.

Their life of mining has also brought them into contact with the Dark Ones on more than one occasion. As a result, the Iron Hides are the foremost experts on hunting and killing Dark Ones. It's a common sport for freshly bloodied hunters of their clan to hunt down Dark Ones in the stony depths. At least one in ten Iron Hides will have either a Dark One skull or remnants of their cloak tied to their belts or dranther war harness.

They go to war wielding mighty hammers used both for combat and crafting, and charge their enemies atop the aggressive Thorncrown, a two-legged herbivore the size of a raptor with a rock-hard domed skull surrounded by thorn-like bones. Their skulls are strong enough to dent inch thick iron and they can run just as fast as a raptor.

Ris'ka had purchased the drill some time ago, trading it for eight raptor striking claws. Since then, it has served her, Night-Scale and Dra'kor well.

Once the holes were drilled into both bones, Ris'ka took off her necklace and untied the string. She removed the many claws and teeth from one side of the necklace before placing the split jaw bone onto the string. Once in place, she returned the teeth and claws back onto the necklace and tied it back around her neck.

With the jaws now in place around her neck, Ris'ka went over and removed the Urgal skull hanging from the netting strapped to Dra'kor. She turned the skull over in her hands, looking at it from every possible angle. Once satisfied, she picked up the bone saw (also from the Iron Hides) and slowly began sawing the back of the skull away.

She had to be very careful, the bone was about as hard as a normal Liz'arin skull but slightly larger. The sound of bone sawing echoed through their cave as she continued her work. Dra'kor and Night-Scale went to the entrance watch for any activity, but all they saw was Eragon walking out of the hold. They paid it little mind however.

When a decent amount of the back was gone, Ris'ka placed the skull over the leather pad to see if it fit. And it did. She then used her knife to smooth out the edges from the saw, then blew onto the skull to dissipate whatever bone dust was left on it. Once she finished, she placed it back on her shoulder and tied it down with the sinew.

Once she finished, she got up, rolled her shoulder a bit, put the tools away and went over to her partners.

'_How do I look?' _She asked presenting the Urgal skull the shoulder of her dragon tattooed arm.

'_Very viscous.' _Dra'kor grinned as he spoke.

'_Dangerous…' _Night-Scale said with a pleased voice.

'_And of course, beautiful.' _They both said at once.

Ris'ka smiled at their compliment, _'Thank you.'_ She tells them, going over to look out of the cave and see Saphira lounging at the mouth of her and Eragon's cave.

'_Where is Eragon? Is he still asleep?'_ Ris'ka asked.

'_No, he walked out of the hold while you were sawing the skull. To where, I do not know.' _Dra'kor said.

'_Probably to try and see that Arya woman. He's done nothing but ask about her this whole time. She must be his wife or Destined for him to be so concerned.' _Night-Scale added.

'_I am not so sure…' _Said Ris'ka, as she sat herself down between Dra'kor's front legs.

A Destined is what a Liz'arin calls the person who is to be their soul-mate. Liz'arin mate for life, only taking another if theirs has died. Life in Lizar'ik is tough and mostly short, there is little time for courting in the jungle. Many times, freshly bloodied youths will ask for the claw of their Destined as soon as they return from the proving grounds, (as her father did so many years ago with her mother).

Of course, sometimes those who are asked by the bloodied youths to marry will wish to see if they can provide them with strong and cunning children. This is accomplished by a wrestling match, the proposer and familiar must pin the asked Liz'arin and familiar to the ground for a whole minute to prove their worth. If they succeed they will marry, if not… at the least will be humiliated and at the most be eaten.

Eragon and his companions were the last of their clan, or so Ris'ka originally thought. During his story, Eragon told of how he was from a remote village called Carvahall and that he had gone after the creatures known as Ra'zac attacked his home and killed his uncle. He left with Saphira and man named Brom who had been a Rider but lost his dragon. He went on to explain that Murtagh had saved him when the Ra'zac attacked them again, but Brom was mortally wounded and died. He spoke of how they rescued Arya from the clutches of the Shade creature, Durza. How they rode through something called a desert to reach the Varden.

The rest Ris'ka already knew.

They were all from different clans, else they would have started this journey together, and the fact that Arya had been asleep a majority of the time was troubling, considering Eragon's obvious affection for her and her not being of his clan. Still, to love outside your clan is not unheard of.

Marriage between clans is actually quite common in Liz'arin society. Should two from different clans fall for one another, they will marry and stay with the stronger of the two clans. Those that join another clan through marriage will be given a half-mark. One half shall be the mark of their original clan, the other half of their new clan.

Ris'ka herself knew several Liz'arin from others clans that married into the Screaming Skulls.

Then again, this was not Lizar'ik. What Eragon is doing might be completely normal here.

Still, she wondered…

When she said she was the daughter of a King (translation of Rex), Eragon had given her a strange look. She wasn't sure about it, but she felt like her words lit some kind of spark inside him, though she wasn't sure.

Her thoughts were interrupted, when one of those small, hairy creatures walked into the hold. Dwarves were what they were called and they builders of this mighty pyramid that Ris'ka now found herself in.

He saw Ris'ka and walked over to her and bowed, muttering "Argetlam," then speaking in a strange, thick accent. "Good. Awake. Where other?"

"I know not. Left hold while ago." She told him in her own accented voice.

The dwarf nodded, "you tell Eragon, Knurla Orik waits for you. Yes?"

Ris'ka nodded, "Yes."

The dwarf bowed again before scurrying off. Ris'ka noticed his cheeks looked a little red when he was speaking to her, she wondered why.

She rose from the floor and went over to pick up the saddle. She placed it over Dra'kor, tied it around him, and made sure it was tight enough not to fall off, but also loose enough not to hurt.

Then, they waited for young Eragon to return.

After some twenty minutes or so, Eragon finally walked in from a door in the side of the hold. Ris'ka went over to tell him what the dwarf told her, but as soon as he saw her, his eyes widened, his face went red and he abruptly looked to the right, a flustered expression plastered on his face.

"Eragon?" Ris'ka asked, concerned for his sudden behavior. "What wrong, your face gone red."

"I-I-I am sor-sorry for intruding, princess. I di-didn't know you were still getting dressed." He stammered out quickly.

Ris'ka tilted her head in confusion. "But already dressed." She told him and he seemed to get redder.

The sound of Saphira chuckling echoed through the hold. Both Riders gave her a look, Ris'ka's was one of confusion, while Eragon's was one of embarrassed horror. Dra'kor and Night-Scale had walked out of their cave and also gave her looks of confusion.

Then Saphira turned to Dra'kor, staring at him for a while, no doubt talking with him. Then Dra'kor himself let out a bellowing laugh.

'_The women here do not wear clothing so revealing as yours, Ris'ka.' _He spoke with amusement. _'Eragon is not used to seeing a woman in such garb.'_

Again, Ris'ka was confused. Eragon was turning red because of how she was dressed? She was wearing what many females wore (though many wore leather or cloth instead of silk). It leaved little to the imagination, but provided no movement resistance, didn't chafe, and showed off two of the most attractive parts of the body in Liz'arin culture.

The legs and waist.

Was it considered bad here to reveal these to others? Why? It seemed stupid, how would women hope gain husbands if they did not show their bodies off?

She shook her head at the ridiculousness of it all before gently grabbing Eragon's face, and turning him to face her. He seemed very keen on looking away from her for some bizarre reason.

"Eragon." Ris'ka said to gain his attention as he stared into space. "Eragon!" She shook his head a bit to make him look at her. His face was very red and his eyes looked almost fearful, (were all the men here going to be like this?)

"Orik waits for us, we must go." She tells him and releases her hold on his head and goes over to Dra'kor.

Saphira jumps down next to Eragon, clutching his sword in her claws. They appeared to be in a mental debate for a while until Eragon finally buckled his sword with much reluctance. Once he had climbed onto Saphira, the two dragons took off into the expanse of the hollow mountain.

It was no doubt very clear out today, for there was enough light to illuminate the whole interior. They spiraled down to the base and landed in front of one of the large gates, Orik quickly ran to meet them.

"My king, Hrothgar, wishes to see you four. Dismount quickly. We must hurry." He told them before immediately walking away at a fast pace.

The two Riders trotted after him, the dragons easily keeping pace behind them. Many were staring at them, but Ris'ka ignored their gawking faces.

"Where will we meet Hrothgar?" Eragon asked.

Orik didn't slow as he spoke, "In the throne room beneath the city. It will be a private audience as an act of otho – of 'faith.' You do not have to address him in any special manner, but speak to him respectfully. Hrothgar is quick to anger, but he is wise and sees keenly into the minds of men, so think carefully before you speak." He suddenly noticed what Ris'ka was wearing and stumbled a bit before catching himself.

He mumbled something Ris'ka could not understand and kept moving.

Once inside the central chamber, Orik took them down one of the descending stairways that flanked the opposite hall. They walked down a hundred feet, before arriving at two large granite doors. A seven-pointed crown was carved across both.

Seven dwarf guards stood at each side of the doorway. They each held a large hammer and wore belts encrusted with strange, shiny rocks. As they approached, the dwarves pounded the floor with the weapons' hafts. A deep boom resonated back up the stairs from which they descended from. The doors swung inward.

A long, dark hall lay before them, at least a bowshot long. The room was a natural cave just like those in the dragonhold; the walls were lined with stalactites and stalagmites, each thicker than Ris'ka herself. Torches hung sparsely cast the room in a moody light. The floor was brown and polished smooth. A large, black, stone chair sat at the end of the long hall, a small motionless figure sitting in it.

Orik bowed. "The king awaits you."

And with those words, the five entered the throne hall of the dwarf king…

* * *

**Author's Note: Sorry for the cliffhanger, but I'm going to be going on a road trip for five days and I didn't want to make you all wait that long. Thanks again for all your support for my story, I hope you enjoyed this chapter I feel it was MUCH better than the last.**

**And don't worry, the meeting with Arya will occur very soon…**

**As always, please fav, follow and review. Thank you!**

**DeadRich18 Out!**


	8. Chapter 7: Revelations

**I do not own Inheritance Cycle it belongs to Christopher Paolini. I do however own the fantasy culture and the race that practices it.**

**The DeadRich is BACK! After a long trek through the Narrows of Zion and a perilous rafting expedition through the Colorado River, I have returned to describe the tale of the savage Ris'ka as she travels the **_**CIVILISED**_** Land of Alagaësia.**

**So here ya go! Chapter Seven. The long awaited meeting has arrived. Also I keep forgetting to mention, but Ris'ka's dragon tattoo is a tribal design, just look up tribal dragon tattoo somewhere and you'll get the idea of the look. Hope Ya like it!**

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**Savagery**

**Chapter Seven: Revelations**

As they walked into the cavern-like hall, the mighty doors closed behind the Riders and dragons. Leaving them alone with the dwarf Rex at the end of the hall.

The sound of their footsteps echoed through the hall and towards the stone chair. In the recesses between the small stone teeth stood large statues. Each one depicted either a male or female dwarf sitting on a stone chair similar to the one they were now walking towards. Ris'ka could only assume these were the likenesses of past dwarf Rexes. Strange, curving lines had been carved into the rock under each set of feet' their purpose Ris'ka did not understand.

They passed more than forty of the monuments, the rest of the alcoves were bare and empty, no doubt reserved for the statues of the future Rexes. Once they arrived at the end of the hall they stopped, and Ris'ka got a better view of Rex Hrothgar.

The tiny Rex sat upon his mighty chair with the same stillness of the statues they passed. The chair was cut from a black stone that possessed the same sheen as the white pyramid. It was bare and blocky, carved with the same angular perfection Ris'ka had seen in the tunnel. It radiated with strength, ancient strength, as if it were forged in the Before Times when all was new.

A shiny, yellow helm sat upon his head, encrusted with shiny stones of red and white. He wore a grim visage, weathered, and hewn with many rains worth of experience. His craggy brow rested above deep-set eyes, hard and piercing. He wore a shirt forged of metal rings over his strong chest. His face hair was white and was tucked underneath his belt. In his lap he held a powerful war hammer, twelve stars surrounding a hammer engraved on its head.

Ris'ka guessed it was a clan symbol of sorts, since Orik wore the same on his helm.

Eragon bowed awkwardly and knelt before the dwarf Rex. Ris'ka was confused by this action. Bowing was for when one asks those higher in the clan for forgiveness, or when speaking with a summoned Spirit. And kneeling was for when one speaks with children. They were not the ways one greets a Rex.

Following tradition, Ris'ka clicked her feet together, straightened her back, placed both hands in front of her pelvis, and raised her chin high so her neck was visible.

This was how champions and clan talkers greet a Rex. It was a show of respect, trust, and _very slight_ submission. With her feet so close together it would be hard for her to evade an attack. Placing her hands in front of her shows she carries no weapon in them. And by exposing her neck, she shows she feels safe here. It also shows how much she trusts the Rex not to rip out her throat.

Ris'ka had not done this when she met with Ajihad, because he was only a chief, and the circumstances of the meeting made such a display meaningless, as it was more of a story telling session than a meeting with a clan official.

Night-Scale and Dra'kor also exposed their necks, showing they shared their partner's feeling of security.

Saphira, however, made no attempt to show any respect and just stood where she was.

The Rex stirred, as if waking from a great hibernation, and rumbled, "Rise, Rider, you need not pay tribute to me."

He was addressing Eragon, who straighten himself and met the Rex's gaze. Ris'ka and her partners also relaxed and adopted more relaxed poses.

The Rex inspected Eragon with a hard gaze, before looking over Ris'ka with the same flinty stare, then spoke with a guttural voice, "Âz knurl demn lanok. 'Beware the rock changes' – an old dictum of ours… and nowadays the rock changes very fast indeed." He fingered his hammer as continued to speak. "I could not meet with you earlier, as Ajihad did, because I was forced to deal with my enemies within the clans. They demanded that I deny you sanctuary and expel you from Farthen Dûr. It has taken much work on my part to convince them otherwise."

'_Our presence has shaken the bloodwasp hive more than we realized.' _Dra'kor said.

"Thank you," said Eragon. "I didn't anticipate how much strife our arrival would cause."

"We thank you too." Ris'ka said. "And we greatly sorry for inconvenience our presence cause you." She straightened her back before bowing to the point where her spine was parallel to her waist.

He grunted and waved the apology away, "You have no need to apologize, Princess Ris'ka." He followed this statement by accepting both of their thanks.

'_What is a princess anyway, Ris'ka?'_ Night-Scale asked. _'Everyone has been calling you that ever since you spoke with chief Ajihad.'_

'_It's the title given to the daughter of a Rex.' _Dra'kor informed her. _'Apparently, they are used by their fathers to broker alliances with powerful clans and other Rexes by being married off to the other chief or Rex's son. Preferably the firstborn.'_

'_That's barbaric!'_ Night-Scale exclaimed with disgusted shock. _'They just marry them off like one would sell a fine weapon? Do their fathers not care for their daughters' happiness?'_

'_I doubt it, and considering what Saphira said about the women of this land, I suspect they have little if any say in who they wish to wed.' _Ris'ka concluded.

Night-Scale growled her disproval through their link, but dared not cause a scene in front of Rex Hrothgar.

The old Rex lifted a gnarled hand and pointed out at the many statues they passed on their way in. "See there, Riders, where my predecessors sit upon their graven thrones. One and forty there are, with I the forty-second. When I pass from this world into the care of the gods, my hírna will be added to their ranks. The first statue is the likeness of my ancestor Korgan, who forged this mace, Volund. For eight millennia – since the dawn of our race – dwarves have ruled under Farthen Dûr. We are the bones of the land, older than both the fair elves and the savage dragons." Saphira shifted slightly at the comment.

Rex Hrothgar leaned forward, his voice deep and gravelly. "I am old – even by our reckoning – old enough to have seen the Riders in all their fleeting glory, old enough to have spoken with their last leader, Vrael, who paid tribute to me within these very walls. Few are still alive who can claim that much. I remember the Riders and how they meddled in our affairs. I also remember the peace they kept that made it possible to walk unharmed from Tronjheim to Narda."

What did he mean they kept the peace and meddled in his affairs? Dragon Riders didn't do that. Yes, they were mighty warriors and champions of their respective clans, and often acted as the talkers for their clans during clan talks. And yes, there have been times in the past when a Rider has prevented all-out war between clans through either reason or sheer force.

But for a Rider to interfere in the internal affairs of another clan…

It was completely unheard of…

"And now you stand before me – a lost tradition revived. Tell me, and speak truly in this, why have you come to Farthen Dûr? I know of the events that made you flee the Empire, Rider Eragon. And that you, Rider Ris'ka, were sent here against your will. But what is your intent now?"

Eragon answered first. "For now, Saphira and I merely want to recuperate in Tronjheim. We are not here to cause trouble, only to find sanctuary from the dangers we've faced for many months. Ajihad may send us to the elves, but until he does, we have no wish to leave."

"Then was it only the desire for safety that drove you?" Rex Hrothgar asked. "Do you just seek to live here and forget your troubles with the Empire?"

Eragon shook his head at this statement. "If Ajihad told you of my past, you shoulder know that I have grievances enough to fight the Empire until it is nothing but scattered ashes. More than that, though… I want to aid those who cannot escape Galbatorix, including my cousin. I have the strength to help, so I must."

The Rex seemed satisfied with his response. He then turned to address Saphira, "Dragon, what think you in this matter? For what reason have you come?"

Saphira's lips rose as she growled. Whatever she was telling Eragon to convey must have been graphic, for he grimaced before relaying her wish to destroy the Rex and save the two dragon eggs he still held, and that Eragon was ready for such a task.

Ris'ka was amused by Saphira's particular choice in wording her desire, and it seemed Rex Hrothgar was to. "I see that dragons have not changed with the centuries." He turned his attention to Ris'ka, "and what of you, Princess Ris'ka? What is your reason for standing before me now?"

"I wish to return home, but know not where or how to get back. Until find way back, I and my partners will stay here, do best to represent our clan." Ris'ka spoke the words with great difficulty, mangling whatever elegance this language had, but she felt confident that her message was clear.

The dwarf Rex gazed at her with a raised eyebrow. "Represent your clan, you say? And how will you go about this?" He asked as he ran a hand through his face hair.

"Show strength, show cunning, show skill, and show magic. Show strength of the Screaming Skulls." She said with vigor, Dra'kor hummed his approval.

"Does the same go for your dragon and pet?" He asked.

Ris'ka bristled at this and Night-Scales back feathers ruffled up as she hissed a warning to the Rex. The behavior startled Eragon, but Rex Hrothgar only raised his eyebrow at it.

"Night-Scale my familiar, bond to me like Dra'kor and very smart. _Not_ _pet_!" She spoke with a clenched jaw.

Eragon's eyes went wide and both the Rex's eyebrows shot up to meet each other. "You are bond to _both_ of them?" He asked.

Ris'ka nodded, "We three are shards of the same soul." She told him.

The Dwarf Rex rubbed his hairy chin for a moment as he contemplated this information. Then, abruptly, turned his attention back to Eragon. Eragon had been busy starring dumbstruck at Ris'ka until Rex Hrothgar addressed him again, snapping him out of his stupor with a jump and shake of the head.

"Do you know why this seat was quarried so flat and angular?" Rex Hrothgar asked as he taped the chair with a knuckle. "So that no one would sit comfortably on it. I have not, and will relinquish it without regret when my time comes. What is there to remind you of your obligations, Eragon? If the Empire falls, will you take Galbatorix's place and claim kingship?"

That was a silly question to ask. While it was customary to take possession of a fallen opponent's weapons, armor, meat, spouse (only if willing), and their position in the clan, champions are strictly forbidden from inheriting the role of chief.

This is because while most champions receive the role by simply killing a dragon, those that become Riders share in their draconic partner's gift of long life. This means if a Rider became chief, he or she would stay chief longer than naturally possible. Another problem with this is that unlike familiars, when a bonded dragon dies, the Liz'arin and familiar will often survive and go mad.

Though not at the same level as one who has lost their half, the feeling of a third of your soul literally dying takes a heavy toll on the mind.

The forbidding of champions becoming chiefs was due to the action of one Liz'arin many rains ago. A Saurous champion by the name of Vaka was bonded to dragon. After his clan's chief died, he inherited the role. He, his familiar and their dragon ruled over their clan for hundreds of generations. Then one day, his dragon died in a hunting accident and Vaka and his familiar went completely mad. They declared war on all of Lizar'ik, and destroyed over a dozen clans before all three tribes united and wiped him and his clan from existence. Afterwards, the tribes all agreed that any champion, Hunter or Rider, would never be allowed to inherit the role of chief ever again.

His clan's name was lost to time and his name was turned a word of curse among the tribes.

The situation here was becoming much clearer for Ris'ka now. She now knew that Rex Galbitorix was in fact a dragon Rider like herself and Eragon. That alone was as good a reason as any to help the Varden clan, but this was a decision Ris'ka could not make on her own.

Unless her life was endangered by this so-called Empire, she would need her father's permission to assist these people in their war.

"I don't seek to wear the crown or rule," said Eragon, seeming troubled by the question. "Being a Rider is responsibility enough. No I would not take the throne in Urû'baen… not unless there was no one else willing or competent enough to take it."

"No." Ris'ka said, and both males looked at her. "Forbidden for Rider become Rex. Honor demand I kill you if you try." Eragon flinched away from the coldness of her words.

Saphira snarled at Ris'ka for her threat and Dra'kor snarled right back at the smaller dragon.

"And why is it forbidden for a Rider to become a 'Rex?'" Rex Hrothgar asked.

"Long ago, dragon Rider become chief. Dragon died, chief go mad. Destroy many clans before defeated. Since then, no Rider allowed as chief or Rex." Ris'ka told him.

Rex Hrothgar nodded his head at this. "A good enough reason to forbid ones such as yourselves from ruling over others."

"Also, Rider live long life. Clan under Rider never change. Stuck in old ways." Ris'ka added and was rewarded with another nod of approval from Rex Hrothgar.

"You speak wise words, Ris'ka of the Screaming Skulls. No race should have a leader who does not age or leave the throne." He looked at Eragon before continuing. "The time of the Riders has passed, Eragon. They will never rise again – not even if Galbatorix's other eggs were to hatch."

'_I like this Rex, he speaks with wisdom earned through experience.' _Dra'kor said to his two smaller partners.

'_Yes, and despite his old body he is not frail or weak, but strong and hardened.' _Night-Scale added.

A shadow crossed the small Rex's face as he gazed at Eragon's side. "I see you carry an enemy's sword; I was told of this, and that you travel with the son of the Forsworn. It does not please me to see this weapon." He extended his hand. "I would like to examine it."

Eragon unsheathed his strange, red blade and presented it, hilt first, to the Rex. Rex Hrothgar grasped the sword in his hand and ran a practiced eye over the red weapon. Its edge caught the light of the torches and reflected it sharply. The dwarf Rex then tested the point of blade with his palm, and said, "A masterfully forged blade. Elves rarely choose to make swords – they prefer bows and spears – but when they do, the results are unmatched. This is an ill-fated blade; I am not glad to see it within my realm. But carry it if you will; perhaps its luck has changed." He then returned the blade to Eragon, who sheathed it.

"Has my nephew proved helpful during your time here?" Rex Hrothgar suddenly asked.

Ris'ka smiled as she realized who he must be speaking of, though Eragon seemed to be lost.

"Who?" He asked.

The Rex rose an eyebrow at this. "Orik, my youngest sister's son. He's been serving under Ajihad to show my support for the Varden. It seems he has returned to my command, however. I was gratified to hear how you both defended him"

"I could not ask for a better guide." Eragon said.

"Nor could we." Ris'ka added.

"That is good," said the Rex, pleased by their words. "Unfortunately, I cannot speak with you much longer. My advisors wait for me, as there are matters I must deal with. I will say this, though: If you wish the support of the dwarves within my realm, you must first prove yourself to them. We have long memories and do not rush to hasty decisions. Words will decide nothing, only deeds."

Dra'kor hummed his approval at this.

"I will keep that in mind," said Eragon, bowing again.

The Rex nodded. "You may go, then."

"May your foes be strong enough to keep you sharp." Said Ris'ka with a bow of her head. It was an old Liz'arin phrase used when bidding farewell to respected warriors and leaders.

The Riders left the Rex's cavern hall, and found Orik waiting for them outside the doors. He held an anxious look upon his face as he fell in with them as they climbed back up to the main chamber.

"Did all go well? Were you received favorably?" Worry clear in his voice.

"I think so. But your king is cautious," said Eragon.

Ris'ka nodded at this. "Wary Rex is living Rex." She said.

"Oeí, his caution is what has kept him alive for so long." Said Orik with a nod.

'_I like that Rex. He is very small, yet holds no fear for both Saphira and I.' _Dra'kor said with admiration.

Night-Scale nodded at this. _'I agree, though I do not like being called _pet_...'_

'_Oh, relax, Night-Scale. He did not know.' _Ris'ka told her.

Orik spoke again once they were back in the central chamber, the star sapphire sparkling above them. "Your blessing yesterday has stirred up the Varden like an overturned beehive. The child Saphira touched has been hailed as a future hero. She and her guardian have been quartered in the finest rooms. Everyone is talking about you 'miracle.' All the human mothers seem intent on finding you and getting the same for their children."

Eragon seemed alarmed, while Ris'ka was confused. What blessing?

"What Eragon do?" Ris'ka asked.

"When Saphira flew down from the dragonhold to retrieve Eragon, an old woman begged him to bless an orphaned infant. After he blessed her, Saphira touched her brow and placed a silver mark on her forehead." Orik informed her.

Ris'ka looked sharply at Eragon. "You did WHAT!?" she almost yelled.

Eragon jumped a little from her exclamation. "I-I panicked." He admitted.

"You must take back now." She demanded. "You no right to change child's Path in such a way."

"I… don't know how." He said timidly.

Ris'ka, Night-Scale, and Dra'kor looked at him with an 'are you serious' expression on each of their faces. Ris'ka then closed her eyes, pinched the bridge of her nose and released an aggravated sigh, while Dra'kor and Night-Scale just shook their heads.

"Should have said no to old woman. Tell her not your place to decide child's Path." Ris'ka said then opened her eyes and removed her fingers. "Only Spirits and child allowed to decide such things."

Eragon looked as if he was about to ask her what she meant, before Orik interrupted him. "She's right. And until you learn how to take back your actions, I suggest you stay out of sight as much as possible. Everyone will be kept out of the dragonhold, so you won't be disturbed there."

Once more, Ris'ka was humbled by Orik's hospitality, and confused by the behavior of the people here. The humans, (which Ris'ka guessed was what Eragon's people are called), wanted him to _bless_ their children so they would become mighty heroes.

Did they not have faith in their children to accomplish mighty deeds on their own? That they could not forge their own Path without help? Ris'ka was disgusted by their desire to have their children _blessed_. It made absolutely no sense to her or her partners.

Why would they want their children's Paths changed?

Once something is born, it begins its journey down the Path of Life. They length of the Path varies for everything, and is not always straight forward. Many times, one will come upon splits in their Path that go in different directions. Each direction changes one's Path in a multitude of different ways. But no matter how many twists and turns there are, all Paths lead to one place…

Life after Death.

But before a soul can get there, it must find a Soul Judge. Once a Soul Judge is found, it will review the deceased's Path and determine where it shall reside in Life after Death. It may send the soul to live with its ancestors in the Spirit Plane. But if the Judge deems the soul unworthy, it will turn the soul away, forcing it to seek out another Soul Judge before it disappears into mist.

This is where the Liz'arin have an advantage. Thanks to their bond, a Liz'arin and familiar are able to use their combined tracking skills to locate a Death Judge faster than any other soul. But should one of the pair survive the other's death, neither will be able to find a Judge and reach Life after Death.

All the choices on a Path must be made only by the walkers of that Path. For someone else to alter another's Path through magic was strict taboo. And to actually _want _their Paths changed by magic was absolutely unthinkable. Only the Great Spirits can change one's Path, and even they are reluctant to change one's Path of Life. One who's Path has been altered by mortal magic is damned to never find Life after Death and fade into mist.

The more she learned about these people, the more Ris'ka's view on them diminish. The dwarves she liked, Orik and Hrothgar were honorable, strong folk, ones Ris'ka would be honored to fight both with and against.

But the humans were a different story. They were skittish, paranoid, creatures that always seemed like they were about to piss themselves and run at the sight of danger. And their warriors were all so stupidly obedient, they never seemed to question any command given to them, even if that command could put everyone around them in danger.

Ris'ka didn't quite know what to make of the mysterious elves. But from what Ajihad said about them hiding in this lands northern jungle for nearly a hundred rains, they sounded very cowardly. The fact their Rex pulled back all her support for the Varden just because three of her people were killed did not cast her in a good light.

The Urgals she knew too little of to judge appropriately, though they did fight with much ruthlessness and strength. Something any Liz'arin could respect.

All of it was giving Ris'ka a headache. She needed to relax, and relieve her head of this throbbing pain caused by Eragon's stupidity. "I tired, may I and partners return to hold, host Orik?" Ris'ka asked politely.

"You need not my permission if you wish to return, Rider Ris'ka. Though are you sure you wish to return so soon? Do you not wish to see more of Tronjheim?" Orik asked her.

"Is very beautiful, but I am tired." She told him as politely as possible. "Have not forgotten test, will go to training place tomorrow. Show skill then."

Orik nodded his helmed head. "Very well then, and what of you, Eragon and Saphira? Would you like to return to the dragonhold as well?" Orik asked the young Rider.

The young boy turned his gaze to Ris'ka, he seemed torn between wanting to explore this magnificent place and returning to the dragonhold with them. Saphira then nudged his shoulder with her snout, making him look at her for a moment, before she made to leave through one of the great doors. Eragon explained she wished to return to the hold, but that he would like some breakfast, then explore more of the amazing white pyramid. He too would be going to the fields tomorrow.

Ris'ka and her others were close behind Saphira, the conversation between human and dwarf soon drifted away as they ascended into the enclosed air of the mountain, and down into the top of the white pyramid. Saphira jumped into her cave and disappeared into its rocky confines. Ris'ka, Dra'kor and Night-Scale however, halted just outside of their own cave.

Ris'ka and Night-Scale hoped off Dra'kor, and removed the saddle from his back. Ris'ka brought it into the cave and laid it down next to the armor. She then took off her silk clothing and donned an older, worn, leather top and loincloth, removed her knife and spear, and equipped her bracers and scimitars before exiting the cave.

Understanding what she desired, Dra'kor placed his head on the ground to allow Ris'ka to climb on top. Once she was standing on his large head, Dra'kor raised it high into the air.

Once his head was high enough, Ris'ka began the Dance of Blades.

The Dance was one of many exercises Liz'arin warriors perform to stay fit and limber during times of rest. However, due to her lack of a tail, Ris'ka's version of the Dance was altered to account her smaller form. The Dance of Blades was fast, complex mixture of slashing, stabbing, dodging, kicking, jumping and many much more. The uneven surface of Dra'kor's head makes it challenging to remain balanced while dancing. But Ris'ka loves challenges. And with each Dance she performed atop his mighty head, the more her precision and balance improved.

She also performed the dance to clear her mind whenever it is clouded. She would do the dance for hours on end, only ever stopping when her mind was clear of whatever fogged it.

While she performed the Dance, Night-Scale took the opportunity to groom herself. Lying down next to Dra'kor's right foreleg, she began the careful process of cleaning her claws and preening her feathers. Night-Scale's flexible neck allowed her to reach most of her feathers, save the ones on her neck and head. Ris'ka would help with the feathers Night-Scale could not reach once she finished the Dance of Blades. Cleaning her claws was easy enough, her dexterous tongue and sharp teeth made removing grime, dirt and other materials fairly simple.

An hour passed before Ris'ka's mind finally felt clear. Dra'kor lowered his head onto the surface of the star sapphire to allow his now sweaty Rider to remove herself from his head. Ris'ka walked back into the cave and cleaned herself of the sweat using the water from the bowl. Once she felt like she no longer stunk of sweat, Ris'ka removed her bracers, sheathed her scimitars, and took off the sweaty leather clothes and replaced them with her cleaner silk clothes.

Once that was settled, she walked back to Dra'kor and Night-Scale, where she sat down next the dranther and began preening the feathers on her neck and head.

As she groomed her dranther, Ris'ka and her others practiced speaking in the tongue of this land. At some point, Saphira emerged from her cave and took off into the roofed sky of Farthen Dûr. She returned quickly, Eragon mounted on her back.

Once they landed, Eragon quickly dismounted and made for the door leading out of dragonhold, before stopping and gazing towards Ris'ka. He then looked back towards the door briefly, before walking over to the trio.

He stopped about four feet from where they sat, looking at his feet with a nervous expression. His cheeks had gained the red hue his face had this morning when he saw first saw her out of her armor.

"Eragon?" Ris'ka asked, "Would you like to sit down?" She patted the surface of the red stone a few times to emphasize what she meant.

He still looked flustered, but sat down nonetheless. They sat there in silence for a moment before Eragon looked up and asked hesitantly, "what are the dragons in Lizar'ik like?"

Dra'kor lifted his head and placed it down over his right leg so that he could look at Eragon. Ris'ka smiled a little at his question. "They are mighty hunters." She began. "Very respected by my people for ferocity, cunning and strength."

"You said they are _one_ of Lizar'ik's top predators. Are there other creatures there that can… _compete_ with dragons?" He asked with cautious skepticism, as if it was impossible for a dragon to have natural rivals.

"Several." She said with a nod, making Eragon go wide-eyed and slack-jawed. "No animal is without a predator in Lizar'ik, not even dragons. Carnasours, troglodons, wyverns and more fight the dragons and each other for food and territory. Keeping one another in check."

"From what you said when we met Ajihad, it sounds like a very dangerous place to live." Eragon spoke bluntly, but Ris'ka did not mind.

"Only the strong survive in Lizar'ik, the weak do last long in her jungles." She said with an agreeing nod. "Lizar'ik may be a killer, but she is a truly beautiful one. Mighty trees of all shapes and sizes cover her lands, flowers of all colors bloom throughout her jungles, her beaches are covered by soft white sand, and her waters so clear, you can see the sea floor, even when you are in deep waters."

Ris'ka then looked into Eragon's now wonderstruck eyes and said firmly, "She is the shaper of all who live within her borders. She keeps us strong and cunning. She is Lizar'ik."

Eragon just looked at her for a moment, then his gaze drifted to her left arm, "what does that tattoo mean?" He asked pointing at the arm.

Ris'ka raised her left arm and looked at the mighty dragon depicted on it with a proud smile. She was about to explain its significance, when she heard the door to the dragonhold open and an unfamiliar scent filled her nose.

Eragon must have sensed it too, for he jumped to his feet and placed his hand on his sword, Ris'ka and Night-Scale took combat stances, but all three stayed their attacks when the intruder raised her hands into the air to show she carried no weapon. "Peace, Riders, I mean no harm." She said, her voice carrying a very familiar tone of command and confidence, all three relaxed and settled into more casual stances.

The woman looked only a few rains older than Eragon himself, yet carried herself with a calm confidence. She was garbed in a strange, red dress that covered almost her whole body. Her skin was the same near black color of Ajihad's so she must be related to him in some manner, most likely his daughter. A dagger hung from her waist, covered with strange shiny stones. Her eyes were much like Ajihad's own, though more feminine. Her lips were wider than the other humans Ris'ka had seen and her cheekbones were very round. Her hair reminded Ris'ka of clumps of hanging moss with how it curled, though it was black and not at all tangled like moss.

She pinched the sides of her dress with both hands and lifted the dress a little. She then bowed her head at them. Ris'ka could only tilt her head in confusion at such an odd form of greeting.

"I am Nasuada," She said before returning to a normal stance.

"Well met, Lady Nasuada, I am Eragon." Eragon said with a slight nod of his head.

"I am Ris'ka, and this Night-Scale and Dra'kor." She indicated with a hand to her others who nodded in greeting to the dark-hide woman.

Saphira snaked her head out of hers and Eragon's cave quickly after Ris'ka introduced herself and her others. When Nasuada noticed her, Eragon introduced Saphira and Nasuada repeated the strange bow and greeted the dragon with respect.

The dark girl smiled. "My father, Ajihad, sent me here with a message. Would you like to hear it?"

The resemblance was obvious to Ris'ka and her thirds, but brief shock flashed over Eragon's eyes before it vanished under curiosity. "Yes, I would."

"We as well." Ris'ka said.

Nasuada tossed her ebony hair and recited: "He is pleased that you are doing well, Eragon, but he cautions you against actions like your benediction yesterday. They create more problems than they solve. Rider Ris'ka, the Twins demand the return of the hand Night-Scale tore off immediately-"

"No." Ris'ka interrupted with a glare. "It is their own fault for demanding to view my mind, tell them their lucky Night-Scale finds them foul tasting, else she would have eaten him."

Eragon seemed to wince at her words, though Nasuada held a blank expression before continuing her message.

"- He also urges you two to proceed with the testing as soon as possible – as he needs to know how capable you are before he communicates with the elves."

"Did you climb all the way up here just to tell us that?" Eragon asked, it did seem rather unnecessary.

The girl shook her head. "I used the pulley system that transports goods to the upper levels. We could have sent the message with signals, but I decided to bring it myself and meet you in person."

'_She's sizing us up.' _Dra'kor spoke over their link. _'Trying to learn as much as she can.'_

'_Smart of her, perhaps these humans aren't as dim as you once thought, eh Ris'ka?' _Night-Scale said with a small flick of her tail.

'_Perhaps… or she's just more learned than the others.' _Ris'ka replied.

"Would you like to sit down?" Eragon asked, gesturing towards his and Saphira's cave.

Nasuada laughed lightly at this, finding it funny for some reason. "No, I am expected elsewhere. You should also know, Eragon, my father decreed that you may visit Murtagh, if you wish." A somber look distorted her once smooth face. "I met Murtagh earlier… He's anxious to speak with you. He seemed lonely; you should visit him." She gave Eragon directions to the boy's cell.

"What about Arya? I she better? Can I see her? Orik wasn't able to tell me much." Eragon abruptly asked, Ris'ka could hear Night-Scale's hissing chuckle at the boy's question.

Nasuada must have found it amusing too, for a mischievous smile crept onto her face. "Arya is recovering swiftly, as all elves do. No one is allowed to see her except my father, Hrothgar, and the healers. They have spent much time with her, learning all that occurred during her imprisonment." Her eyes swept over Dra'kor and Saphira. "I must go now. Is there anything you would have me convey to Ajihad on your behalf?"

"No except a desire to visit Arya. An-" Eragon was interrupted by Night-Scale's hissing laughter.

'_Oh, this is adorable! He's all concerned about a female he hasn't even spoken to and barely knows!' _Night-Scale says in-between laughs.

Ris'ka herself giggles a little at her dranther's statement, but stops herself with a small grunt when Eragon and Nasuada look at them. Eragon's face is one of confusion, while Nasuada's is one of mischievous understanding.

"Did I say something funny?" Eragon asks, making Night-Scale snicker at his obliviousness.

"No, Night-Scale just think it's cute how much you care for her, even though you not really know her." Ris'ka said with an amused smile, making Eragon turn red again.

"It is quite noble of you, Rider Eragon. I will take your words directly to him. Farewell, Riders Eragon and Ris'ka. I hope we shall soon meet again." She performed the strange dress bow and left the dragonhold with high held head.

Once she had left, Saphira rescinded back into her cave. Eragon said is farewells and climbed up to join her. Ris'ka and her partners did the same. Tired from the Dance she had performed, she undressed and prepared for sleep, but stopped when she saw the water bowl.

Ris'ka walked up to it, and scryed her father.

She saw him and Swift-Bite, alive and healthy. Her father was brooding, his mohawk crest laid flat on his scalp in contemplation. Swift-Bite was pacing back and forth impatiently. Were they still waiting for her to return? Had they sent out another search pack to find them and were now awaiting their return?

Ris'ka ceased scrying and walked back to the cushion her others were laying on.

'_At least you know they are alive and unharmed.' _Dra'kor said as he laid his head down and closed his eyes.

'_Yes, but for how long?' _Ris'ka responded, the sound of Eragon laughing at something filled her ears.

They bid each other good sleeps and drifted away.

* * *

Ris'ka was excited when she awoke the next morning. Covering herself in her leather training clothes and equipping her dual scimitars, she, Night-Scale, Dra'kor, Eragon and Saphira made their way down to the gate where Orik awaited them.

Today she would show them the strength of her clan in both blade and magic.

After landing and greeting the dwarf, Eragon inquired him about Nasuada.

"An unusual girl," he answered, giving the red sword, Zar'roc, a disapproving glance. "She's totally devoted to her father and spends all her time helping him. I think she does more for Ajihad than he knows – there have been times when she's maneuvered his enemies without ever revealing her part in it."

'_Clever girl…' _Dra'kor said with admiration.

'_She has more cunning than we originally thought.' _Night-Scale added.

'_Ka, she does. We best be careful around her.'_ Ris'ka said.

Eragon went on to ask who her mother was. Orik explained that Ajihad brought Nasuada to Farthen Dûr when she was only an infant, and that he's never revealed where he and Nasuada came from.

"Enough of this talk." Ris'ka said brusquely. "I yearn to test my blades against your warriors. Where must we go for Ajihad's 'test'?"

Orik pointed out into the moss covered fields of the hollow mountain. "The training field is half a mile from Tronjhiem, though you can't see it from here because it's behind the city-mountain. It's a large area where both dwarves and humans practice."

'_This should be amusing to watch.'_ Night-Scale said with an amused voice.

'_What? Seeing what passes for combat among these creatures, or Ris'ka beating them without getting a scratch?'_ Dra'kor asked, equally amused.

'_Ha! Both!'_ Night-Scale replied.

"Saphira wishes to come with us." Eragon informed Orik.

"As do Dra'kor and Night-Scale." Ris'ka added.

The dwarf tugged his face hair. "That might not be a good idea. There are many people at the training field; you will be sure to attract attention."

Saphira growled loudly while Dra'kor simply puffed fire from his nostrils, settling the debate.

Ris'ka heard the familiar sound of fighting long before Eragon did. The strangely rhythmic pattern of classing metal, cracking wood, thumping arrows and mock shouting of men dueling one another…

It reminded her of home.

The bulk of the ground was occupied by a block of warriors, all mashed together, wielding shields and poleaxes almost as tall as themselves. They drilled as one, in a style never before seen by Ris'ka.

During combat, Liz'arin will fight each other two at a time. If a Liz'arin and his familiar are surrounded, only two of the attackers will strike (two meaning both the Liz'arin and familiar). Should they fall, the next pair will attack, and the next, until they are either dead or their opponents are.

To see a style of combat that used teamwork was strange and somewhat frightening to Ris'ka. Teamwork was used in combat, yes, but not often and not this extent. It was used mostly for hunting large and dangerous prey like stegadons.

Ris'ka could tell this style was designed to make a head-on charge suicidal. She doubted it very effective against Liz'arin, however, since they could easily jump over the poleaxes and into the formation.

Beside the box of warriors, hundreds of individuals practiced with a mix of weapons. Swords, maces, spears, staves, flails, all manner of shields, and one warrior practiced with a deadly looking, three pronged spear. Most of them wore metal armor, mainly in the strange chain armor.

Dwarves and humans seemed to be equal in terms of numbers, though the two tribes stayed mostly with their own.

A large, bearded man approached them. He wore what was like a hood of chain armor, covering his head and mighty shoulders. The rest of his body was protected by a suit of hairy hide. A sword almost the size of Eragon, hung across his back. He ran a quick eye over all of them, turning red when he saw Ris'ka, then said in a gruff voice, "Knurla Orik. May I ask why this woman is half-naked?"

"I am not half-naked." Ris'ka retorted, "This is a common outfit for a women to wear where I am from. Just because yours are too scared to show some scale doesn't mean all are."

The man let out a sharp laugh. "Got some backbone in you, you do! Can't to see you in a fight." He then turned to Orik. "You've been gone too long, Orik. There's no one left for me to spar with."

Orik smiled as he replied, "Oeí, that's because you bruise everyone from head to toe with your monster sword."

"Everyone except you," the large man corrected.

"That's because I'm faster than a giant like you"

The man looked at the two Riders again. "I'm Fredric. I've been told to find out what you can do. How strong are you?"

"Strong enough," answered Eragon. "I have to be in order to fight with magic."

Ris'ka didn't know what he mean by that, but didn't let it distract her. "Strong enough to break an adult krogar's neck." She responds gaining a multitude of stares from the three men.

"And a krogar is…?" Fredric asked.

"A large plant eater about twice the size of Eragon's horse creature. A large crest rests on its head and its tail has barbed spikes at the end of it." She explains.

They stare at her wide-eyed and slack-jawed. Then Fredric lets out another laugh, "that must have been a sight to behold!" He turns to Eragon a third time. "Magic has no place in what we do here. Unless you've served in an army, I doubt any fights you've been in lasted more than a few minutes. What we're concerned about is how you'll be able to hold up in a battle that may drag on for hours, or even weeks if it's a siege."

These people fought battles that lasted _weeks_? Ris'ka was starting to reconsider these humans.

"Do you know how to use any weapons beside that sword and bow?" He asked Eragon.

"Only my fists." Eragon said after a moment of thought.

"Good answer!" Fredric said with a laugh. "And what about you, skullface?"

"I am trained in all manner of weaponry, from the slash-knuckle to the claw-whip. But I prefer the bow and scimitar to other weap-" Ris'ka stopped and sniffed the air for a moment before drawing her scimitars and spinning around to face the Twins with a growl.

"I told you two to stay away from the training area," Said Fredric as he stepped threateningly towards the two perverts, their frail bodies looking even frail next to his bulk.

They both gave him arrogant looks. "We were ordered by Ajihad to test their proficiency with magic – _before_ you exhaust them banging on pieces of metal."

Night-Scale snarled loudly and threateningly at the pair, but they looked at her unimpressed.

"Why can't someone else test them?" Fredric growled.

"No one else is powerful enough," they sniffed. Dra'kor and Saphira both glared and growled at the pair, but were ignored. "Come with us," they ordered, and strode to an empty corner of the field.

Eragon followed with a shrug, Saphira close behind him. Ris'ka followed too, but she had a better idea of how to show her _proficiency _with magic to the two perverts.

Fredric warned Orik about not let them go too, but Orik stated that he could not interfere a second time. That his Rex will not be able to protect him from the consequences.

The Twins looked back at Eragon and asked, "How do you answer us, Eragon?"

Ris'ka was confused by what they meant by that, but Eragon seemed to understand what they were asking and responded with a flat, "No."

The anger on their faces was clearer than day. They then glared at Ris'ka, the left Twin held out his hand. "Give me back my hand." He ordered.

Ris'ka looked down at the severed hand still hanging from her belt. She took it off and held out it for him. "This hand?" She asked innocently.

"Yes! Now give it back or-" He went silent and pale when Ris'ka engulfed the dismembered hand in a ball of fire.

The magic flame quickly ate away the flesh and bone until nothing was left but ash. She dismissed the flame and let the ashes fall from her hand.

"Oops." She said mockingly.

Everyone was looking at her with absolute shock, but the Twins held the most satisfying expressions. They had gone completely pale, their mouths hung open like the mouths of fish and their eyes were bulging out of their sockets.

Deciding to add to the effect, Ris'ka conjured a ball of lightning in her other hand. The blue sphere of energy crackled violently in her palm, waiting to be released. She grabbed it with her other hand, and made a show stretching the lightning in her hands so that both palms held a ball of blue lightning.

All while having the most maniacal grin plastered on her face.

She then shot her left hand out and struck the left Twin with a bolt of magical lightning, quickly doing the same with the one on the right. Both were sent flying several yards before crashing onto the ground. Neither of the bolts were fatal, she made sure of it. All she wanted was to show them what they were dealing with.

"Those were warning shots." She said. "You are only alive because it is very rude for a guest to kill a host's clan members out of spite. No matter how perverted they are."

She and her partners watched with satisfied smirks as the Twins scrambled to get back up. Once they were standing again the right Twin pointed at her with a shaky finger and yelled. "How did you do that?! How did you use magic without the Ancient Language?!"

"Ancient Language?" Ris'ka asked with a cock of her head.

"You don't know what the Ancient Language is?" Eragon asked, flabbergasted.

"Should I?" She asked, confused by what was going on.

"If you want to use magic, yes, you should." An unfamiliar feminine voice answered from behind them.

All turned around to see the female that had been tied to Saphira's back when they first arrived at the Varden.

Arya.

Ris'ka had only gotten a brief look at the woman before she was spirited away to the healers. Now she was able to see what this mysteriously important person finally looks like.

She was very pale, yet not in a sickly manner. Her long, black hair was restrained by a leather strip encircling her brow that prevented it from. Her face looked similar to Ris'ka's own in terms of shape, and her eyes were even the same color and shape as Ris'ka's. She was even almost as tall. But compared Ris'ka, Arya's body was rather shapeless. She lacked the curves that Ris'ka possessed on her hips and chest.

She was garbed in a black leather tunic worn over a white shirt, black leggings, leather bracers and a pair of brown leather boots. A slim sword hung from her hip, and a bow on her back. She stood relaxed and balanced, and glared hatefully at the two bald men.

"Be gone with you!" She ordered the Twins, who looked at her with almost the same amount of fear as they did with Ris'ka. "I will determine their skills in magic. You are no longer needed."

They scurried away with great speed, one even tripping in their haste to leave.

Orik and Fredric eyed the woman warily. Both the dragons and dranther were crouched, ready for whatever she might do. Arya approached them with near silent footsteps, surveying them all. When she cast her sights on Ris'ka and Dra'kor she halted. Brief surprise flashed over her face before morphing back into a stoic mask.

She placed her fingers to her lips for some reason, then uttered. "Atra esterni ono thelduin."

Shock sprung to life on Ris'ka's face, before contorting into a viscous snarl. She may not know what those words meant but she recognized several of them.

She'd heard them before…

With lightning speed, she pounced Arya, forcing her onto her back. Ris'ka planted her right foot firmly on Arya's chest, then pressed her scimitars against the elf's throat in an X. Ris'ka leaned forward and hissed hatefully at the elf woman. The others were surprised by this action and made to restrain her, only for Night-Scale to jump in front of the two humans and dwarf, while Dra'kor stayed in front of Saphira.

"Where did you learn those words!?" Ris'ka hissed at Arya, who looked completely shocked by her behavior.

"How do you know the Dark Ones' tongue!?"

* * *

**Author's Note: CLIFFHANGER AGAIN! Hope you all liked it, sorry again that this took so long. As I said before I went on a week long road trip with my dad and brother from Salt Lake City in Utah all the way to Phoenix in Arizona, and I did not bring my computer with me. But thank you all for your patience.**

**And if your wonder about what I meant about Ris'ka's curves, yes, she has an hourglass figure. Deal with it. (Puts on the deal with it sunglasses)**

**Anyway I might need some time with figuring out what to do with the next chapter but I'm not sure so who knows.**

**Ka – Liz'arin word for yes.**

**Fogot to mention: Rex is a unisex title.**

**Here is the description of the Saurous tribe.**

**Saurous males and females on average range in height from 7 to 8 and a half feet, (this is why Ris'ka is called Tiny by Draigo despite being 6 and a half feet tall), but some are known to grow to 9 feet tall. The males are as broad as an Urgal while the females are slimmer in build but no less strong as the broader males. The length of the tail depends on the size of the Liz'arin and are on average three fourths the length of the Liz'arin's height. They are extremely flexible and strong, and much like a spider monkey's tail, the tail can be used to grab hold of objects.**

**Like all Liz'arin, Saurous have large, yellow eyes that work and look like cat eyes to allow them to see well both in day and night. Their heads and faces are roughly almond shaped (with the almond point facing down), they lack protruding ears, and have two vertical slits in place of where their nose would be. Saurous have feathered crests on their heads and back of the neck that vary in size, color, and shape. The crest acts similar to that of a dranther crest in terms of movement and expression. Six feathers are also located on the outside elbows, (three on each elbow). They do not move like the crests and their size depends on the Liz'arin's size.**

**They have ten fingers and ten toes (five on each foot and hand), all of which have sharp, razor-like claws on them that are capable of slicing through thick leather with ease. On the back of both their heels is a sixth claw that can act as a natural spur when riding. They have sharp, dagger-like teeth that can tear off large chucks of flesh like a hot knife through butter.**

**They are also capable of mimicking the sounds of animals. They use this when hunting to distract and confuse their prey.**

**The lifespan of a Liz'arin is between 200 and 250 years, though very few ever die of old age.**

**Saurous are highly adaptable and can survive in a multitude of different environments. When entering a new environment, a Saurous can determine the most effective way to live in it in under a day. They can go many days without food or water and still fight with great strength. In fact, a starving Saurous will fight much harder than one on a full stomach.**

**Hope you like the brief description of the Saurous tribe. I might go into little details about them in future chapters, but until then, hope this helps you understand them better.**

**Also, to those who haven't guessed yet, a rain is the equivalent of a year in. I got the idea from the jungle book. (Disney version)**

**Again also, if you guys want to create fan art of Ris'ka and the Liz'arin you have my permission to do so. Just give me a link to the finished work so I may admire what you guys see when you read this fic.**

**As always: Please fav, follow, and review, thank you!**

**DeadRich18 Out!**


	9. Chapter 8: Explanations and Preparations

**1I do not own Inheritance Cycle it belongs to Christopher Paolini. I do however own the fantasy culture and the race that practices it.**

**WARNING: IF YOU LIKE WHALES AND DOLPHINS YOU ARE NOT GOING TO ENJOY THIS CHAPTER! I DO NOT SUPPORT WHALING! JUST THROWING IT OUT THERE! IF YOU ARE ANGERED BY WHAT I HAVE WRITTEN, REMEMBER THIS IS ALL IN A FANTASY WORLD, AND WHALES AND DOLPHINS HAVE HIGH NUMBERS IN IT! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!**

**I am SOOO sorry about the wait for this chapter! I've been having some writer's block and my mom got me Wildstar for a late birthday present. It's a great game, check it out if you can. But here we are, the REAL confrontation between Ris'ka and Arya. Hope you like it!**

**Also I realized too late that the last chapter's tittle did not go well with most of what was in it. I usually start off with a prototype tittle then change it to fit the chapter. Last chapter however, was a fluke and I will try not to repeat it in the future.**

* * *

**Savagery**

**Chapter 8: Explanations and Preparations**

"How do you know that cursed tongue!?" Ris'ka growled at Arya again.

"Ris'ka, get off of her! She's not our enemy!" Eragon shouted. He attempted to approach, but Night-Scale growled at him and he back away.

"She spoke in the Dark Ones' tongue. You cannot trust any who speak their disgusting language!" She responded without taking her glaring eyes off the shocked elf.

Ris'ka pressed her blades against Arya's neck, she wasn't taking any chances with this Dark One speaking elf. One word out of her mouth and Ris'ka would slit her throat open so wide, a lemur could fit in it.

When Ris'ka had visited the Iron Hide clan, their veteran hunters shared their knowledge of the Dark Ones with her and her partners. They told them how the Dark Ones weave spells by speaking strange words. Their words of magic allow them to manipulate magic in ways that would be impossible with Liz'arin magic. They could break a hunter's leg with a mutter, or take all the air out his lungs with a single whisper.

The Iron Hide shamans would place wards upon their hunters before they descended into the caverns to protect them from the words' power. But the wards can only protect the hunters for so long, if it takes to much damage, it collapses and the hunter and familiar are vulnerable to the Dark Ones' sorcery.

But this method of magic using also reveals the easiest way to prevent the Dark Ones from utilizing it. Many Dark One hunters use weapons that are designed to slash deep into armor and flesh and hold their prey down; whip-claws and slash-knuckles are the optimal choices, along with razor-nets and bolas-blades. These weapons are often coated in a special poison that stuns the victim in seconds with agonizing pain, along with rendering them incapable of speaking for weeks.

Once the poison starts taking effect, the hunter rips out the throat of the Dark One, before stabbing them through the heart for good measure.

Ris'ka had several small water skins of the poison herself, but they were stored in one of her saddle bags back in the hold. Carrying poison in a host's home was just asking for trouble.

"Ris'ka!" Orik yelled out. "If you don't want Dra'kor, Night-Scale and yourself filled with arrows, you will let Arya go NOW!"

Ris'ka raised her head to see they were surrounded by the Varden's warriors. Their weapons were ready and pointed at Ris'ka and her partners. She looked back down at Arya and hissed one more time, before removing her foot from Arya's chest and swiftly sheathing her scimitars.

Ris'ka knew it was folly to take on an army by themselves. She may be bloodthirsty but she's not stupid.

Night-Scale went over to Ris'ka's side, letting Eragon run over and help Arya back to her feet. Dra'kor moved out Saphira's way to let her near her Rider. Fredric barked at the warriors to get back to training or suffer punishment. Orik stomped up to Ris'ka with an angry scowl on his hairy face.

"What possessed you to attack Arya like that!? Are you trying to ruin our one chance at getting the elves support back!?" He yelled at her.

Night-Scale hissed, Ris'ka glared at him. "She spoke in the tongue of my people's enemy! They, who speak words that cause nothing but pain, death and misfortune!"

"She was greeting you in the Ancient Language! As an elf yourself, you should know that!"

Any retort she was preparing died in her throat the moment she heard that sentence.

Her rage filled expression changed to one of shock. She looked down at the dwarf with wide-eyes, and mouth slightly a-gap. Dra'kor and Night-Scale were in similar predicaments, staring at the dwarf like his face hair had become a second head.

"What…?" was all she managed to utter.

"You… you don't know what an elf is?" Eragon asked, Arya was now back on her feet and standing next to the shorter male.

"No…" Ris'ka looked at her hands for a moment, clenching and unclenching them. She looked back at Arya and Eragon. "I… I'm a… an elf?" She all but whispered.

Arya just nodded.

Ris'ka suddenly felt light-headed. She stumbled a bit, but was steadied by Dra'kor. She stood there, leaning against her dragon as the force of the words sank in. The world around her went silent, the only sound her loud breathing.

'_Ris'ka? Are you alright?'_ Dra'kor asked concerned.

'_Speak to us! You are making us worried!'_ Night-Scale commanded with a worried voice.

Ris'ka couldn't even formulate a mental response. No, no… they had to be mistaken. There was no way she was an elf. She is a Liz'arin! Sure her hide is soft and her fingers don't have claws and her teeth aren't that sharp, but she's still Liz'arin. They were surely mistaken… they have to be!

And yet… a part of her believed them…

She was very strong, despite her meek size. Her speed was on par with that of a raptor's. She was as graceful and agile as a hummingbird. She had pointy protrusions where her ear-holes would go. And two mounds rested on her chest, along with a weird little indent in the center of her belly.

She was… Different…

It was all too much for her to take. The next thing she remembered was someone calling out her name, while the world spinned around her…

Then blackness…

* * *

"-she not know what she is?" A trilling female voice asked.

"I don't know. But since she has arrived, she's not acted the way I would expect an elf to act." A gruff male voice responded.

"And she said she's bonded to _both_ the dranther and Dra'kor. Is such a thing even possible?" A young male voice exclaimed.

Ris'ka groaned as consciousness returned to her, interrupting any future discussions the voices might have about her. She raised herself up so that she was sitting upright, and noticed she was in the bedding that was laid out for Dra'kor to sleep on. The black mass of Night-Scale quickly nuzzled into her side.

'_Oh, thank the Spirits you're alright!'_ Night-Scale said as she whined with concern.

'_You had us greatly worried, little hunter.'_ Dra'kor said with as he leaned his head down to nuzzle her.

"Wha… what happened?" Ris'ka asked while rubbing her throbbing head.

"You blacked out on the training field. Eragon carried you back to the hold on Saphira several hours ago. Since then, we have been waiting for you wake and explain why you reacted in such a manner." The female voice was now recognizable as Arya.

Night-Scale and Dra'kor hissed at Arya, displeased with her demanding tone, but Ris'ka placed her hands on both of them to let them know it was alright.

'_We do not answer to them, Ris'ka.'_ Night-Scale growled, still glaring at the elf.

'_She's right, you don't need to tell them anything.' _Dra'kor added, never taking his eyes of the group before them.

'_Our actions have left them with many questions. They need to understand why we acted in the manner we did.' _Ris'ka responded. _'They will become suspicious of us if we do not explain ourselves.'_

The two quadrupeds reluctantly agreed to their bipedal partner's reasoning, and back offed.

"What would you like to know?" Ris'ka asked.

"How could you not know that you are an elf?" Eragon quickly asked, not even trying to be subtle.

"I wasn't raised by elves." Ris'ka answered simply, shocking her audience. "My father and his familiar, Swift-Bite, found me in a strange empty village one day while they were hunting. Everyone in the village had been killed by wild animals, but for some reason I was spared. He took me in and raised me as his daughter."

Orik and Eragon offered their sympathies, but Ris'ka informed them that they were unneeded.

Her father told her that the village was located in the territory of a wild dranther pack, and it was only a matter of time before the pack members attacked the village. The only explanation to why her father was not attacked had to be that the village had been attacked right before he entered the pack's territory, so the dranthers were probably still full from eating what was Ris'ka's birth family. The only reason she was alive was either dumb luck or spiritual intervention.

"But if you were not raised by elves, humans, or dwarves, what were you raised by?" Arya asked, seemingly unaffected by the information that Ris'ka never knew her birthers.

"My father is a Liz'arin." She answered, gaining confused stares from those around her.

"Liz'arin?" Orik asked. "What in the gods name is a Liz'arin?"

Ris'ka sighed. She was still coming to terms with the revelation of what she is, and did not wish explain what a Liz'arin is. But they needed to understand the people who raised her. Ris'ka figured a visual aid would help and reached into one of the pouches on her belt and took out a small handful of vision dust.

Vision dust is a type of magical powder created by shamans to add visual effects to storytelling and teaching. All a spell caster needs to do to use it is simply imbue the dust with images of what they want to show, and then blows the dust out into the air. The green dust then settles into a floating cloud, and after a moment, begins to take the shape of what it was instructed to mimic. These images can be given orders to move as if they were alive and can even change into something else.

Ris'ka often used the dust when retelling the stories of her battles and hunts. One such story was of her time in the Proving Grounds and how she felled Dra'kor's mother. It was a particular favorite amongst children.

She brought the handful of dust up to her face and imbued the images of the three Liz'arin tribes and their familiars into it, then she closed her eyes and blew on the dust.

It quickly settled into a sparkling, green cloud, floating in front of both the Screaming Skull champions and the Alagaësians.

Eragon and Arya had their hands on their swords, while Orik already had his axe out and ready. Saphira simply stared at the dust with curiosity, waiting to see what it might do.

As the dust took shape of the three different tribes, Ris'ka began a brief explanation to what a Liz'arin was.

"There are three types of Liz'arin in Lizar'ik; each with its own type of familiar." Ris'ka started, only to be interrupted by Eragon.

"How can there be three types of the same race?" He asked abruptly, earning him a disapproving look from Night-Scale.

"I don't know, nor do I care. It is not our place to Kestion how the Spirits shape us." Ris'ka said. Arya's eyes narrowed a bit, and she looked as if she was going to say something, but stayed silent when the dust finally settled.

The detailed images of a Naga, Ga'goyle and Saurous, each present with a drawk, coral serpent, and dranther, were visible for all to see. The assembled dwarf, human, elf, and dragon looked on in wonder at the simple display.

"The Ga'goyle." She points to the image of the Ga'goyle, the dust had settled it to look like it was about to strike something on ground, its large talons spread wide. "Agile flyers who live in the mountains of the Serpent's Back. Their familiar is the drawk." She points to the drawk, its own talons primed to catch whatever prey its partner was after.

"The Naga." Turning to the image of a Naga swimming against an invisible current with a coral serpent by its side. "The smallest tribe, but the most skilled in magic. They reside on the islands that dot Lizar'ik's southern coast. Their familiar is the coral serpent."

"The Saurous." Ris'ka points to the last illusion. The Saurous was armed with a spear and roaring silently out into the world. A snarling dranther stood at his left, its sharp teeth barred. "The largest and strongest of the tribes. Saurous can live in any environment they desire. They are strong, resourceful and relentless. They are bonded with the fearsome dranther."

Ris'ka let them examine the images for a while, before using her magic to collect the dust and place it back in its pouch. "My father is the Rex of all the tribes: the chief of chiefs. All in Lizar'ik answer to him."

"Wait. I thought you said you were part of a clan, not a tribe." Eragon said, confused by her wording.

Ris'ka sighed again. "Each tribe is made up of many individual clans, each different yet the same. They all vary in size, strength, and culture; some clans are just large family groups, while others can number in the thousands. One clan might be skilled in magic, while the other is skilled in hunting. Every clan has something uneke, something that defines who they are."

"That's all very interesting," Orik interrupted, "but you still haven't explained why you threatened Arya in such a manner."

"You kept saying I was speaking in the tongue of the 'Dark Ones'." Arya mentioned. "What do you mean by that? Who are these Dark Ones?"

"Saphira and I would also like to know who they are. You kept mentioning them, but never went into detail about them." Eragon added.

Night-Scale let out a quiet hiss, and both Ris'ka and Dra'kor narrowed their eyes. "Not who, _what_." Ris'ka corrected. "Dark Ones came to Lizar'ik many generations ago from across the ocean. It is said they once possessed very long lives, and strange magic."

"_Once_?" Orik asked.

Ris'ka nodded. "The first Dark Ones were disgusted by our way of life, deeming us savage barbarians." Ris'ka paused for a moment, trying to keep her emotions in check, even just _speaking_ about those monsters made her blood boil. "The Liz'arins of old did not care what they thought of them, and tolerated the Dark Ones' presence, even if the Dark Ones did not tolerate theirs…. But then they crossed the line…"

"What did they do?" Eragon seemed almost afraid to ask.

"During a Blood Trial, (a rite of passage all Liz'arin youths take part in), they entered several of our Proving Grounds and murdered all of the youths in them." Ris'ka all but growled.

"This unprovoked attack enraged not only the old Liz'arin, but the Great Spirits themselves. The Dark Ones had often laughed and ridiculed the Liz'arin for believing in the Great Spirits, but after what they did, the Great Spirits showed the Dark Ones how real they were…"

"And what did these so-called 'Great Spirits' do? Cause a plague? Bring famine?" Arya curtly asked, her voice laced with sarcastic skepticism.

Dra'kor growled loudly at her disrespect towards the Great Spirits, _'You dare insult those who shaped the world? Do not ridicule that which you don't understand, _elf_, else you share the Dark Ones' Path!'_ Dra'kor snarled aloud so all present could hear his voice.

Eragon and Orik both jumped a little at hearing Dra'kor's voice, and Arya looked shocked. Saphira seemed displeased by his words and sent a small glare his way.

"No, the Spirits did not bring starvation or sickness to the Dark Ones." Ris'ka corrected, glaring at the elf. "They _cursed_ them."

Those words seemed to have an effect on the four, who were now looking at Ris'ka with expressions of curiosity and dread.

"The Spirits did two things." Ris'ka said. "First: they took away their long life." She watched as the faces of her audience developed shocked looks. "Second: they took from them a privilege all creatures take for granted."

She paused to add some effect to her words, taking in the horrified looks of those around her.

"What privilege?" Eragon asked.

"The privilege to walk in daylight."

The effect was almost immediate. Arya took a step back, a horrified expression plastered on her pale face, but quickly changed it back to her normal, stoic gaze. Eragon and Orik simply stared with eyes bulging and mouths open, unable to truly process what they heard. Saphira was growling, but was once again silenced by Dra'kor, whose own growl silenced her own, and jolted the others back into reality.

"Wha-what do you mean by that? Was a spell placed in them that prevented them from going outside during the day?" Eragon asked, frightened by the power of those who could do such things.

"If sunlight touches a Dark One's bare hide, the exposed hide will begin burning, until only a pile of ashes remain." Ris'ka explained, much to her audience's growing horror.

"By the time they realized what had befallen them, many were already dead. Those who survived were then driving underground by the combined might of all the Liz'arin tribes.

"The Dark Ones channel magic through dark words. When you greeted me, I recognized some of the words you used from when the Dark Ones sent us here. It's why I attacked you." Ris'ka looked at Arya when she said this, the woman's stoic mask never leaving her face.

Finished with her explanation, Ris'ka looked over the see that Eragon, Orik, and Saphira had horrified expressions frozen on their faces. Eragon still hadn't closed his mouth, and Orik's eyes looked like they were about to shoot out of their sockets. Saphira just stared, Ris'ka wasn't sure what emotion was more present in her eyes, but it seemed to be a mixture of fear, awe, and horror.

'_I think you broke them, Ris'ka.' _Night-Scale said, slightly amused by their frozen reactions.

'_But why? Do the Spirits here not punish those that do wrong as they do back home?' _Ris'ka asked, confused to why they would be shocked by such a reasonable punishment.

"While that is an interesting story, and a decent enough explanation to your behavior, there is still one question that demands answering." Arya's words seemed to stir the others out of their horror induced stupor.

"How did you use magic without the Ancient Language?" Arya asked.

Ris'ka frowned and tilted her head at the question. "Why would I need to speak an old language to use magic?"

"The Ancient Language is the only way one can use magic with relative safety." Arya answered. "And you were able to summon both fire and lightning without uttering a single word. And despite the amount of power you used, you weren't fatigued at all. What you did should be impossible."

"Any shaman worth his blood can summon fire and lightning, they are not complex spells. But why do you think using magic would make me exhausted?" Ris'ka explained/asked Arya.

Arya let out a sigh and rubbed her temples with her fingers, clearly frustrated for some reason. "_Because_, Magic is fueled by the caster's own energy; the more powerful the spell, the more energy required." She said.

Ris'ka, Night-Scale, and Dra'kor looked at the elven woman with dumbfounded expressions on their faces.

'_How stupid are these people? Don't they realize how dangerous that method of spell weaving is?'_ Night-Scale asked with confusion plain in her voice.

'_Maybe they don't know how to connect to the Spirit Plane like the Liz'arin do.' _Dra'kor commented.

'_I think it might be more than that, Dra'kor…' _Ris'ka said as a serious look came over her face.

"Before I answer I must check something." Ris'ka said, turning to face Eragon. "Eragon, I need to look inside your mind. Do not worry, I will stay clear of your memories."

"Why do you need to look into my mind?" Eragon asked apprehensively, clearly not keen on the idea of someone entering his mind that wasn't Saphira.

"I want to confirm a suspicion that I have gained from Arya's description of magic." Ris'ka told him.

"But why do you wish to look into _my_ mind?" Eragon asked again.

"Because I know you more than Arya and I do not sense much magic in Orik." Ris'ka explained to Eragon who remained hesitant to let her into his mind. "I promise on va horuk, my honor, that I will not even glance at your memories."

Eragon remained silent after her vow, thinking over his decision. He was probably asking Saphira for her opinion on the manner. Dra'kor and Night-Scale took this pause to ask Ris'ka what she sought in Eragon's mind.

'_Remember when I told you two of the day father and mother took me to the High Shaman? How he said a strange curse had been cast on me that stunted my magical energy and blocked my connection to the Spiritual Plane?' _Ris'ka inquired them.

'_Yes, we remember that well.' _Dra'kor said.

'_If the people that birthed me really were natives to this land, then those who live here must also bare that bizarre curse.'_ Ris'ka concluded.

'_It would explain the strange way they conjure magic, and why they were so amazed by you using _true_ magic.' _Night-Scale added, refusing to accept their _Ancient Language _as real magic.

"You swear not to look into my memories?" Eragon asked, wanting confirmation that his secrets would not be stolen.

"Va horuk mit shavas. On my honor, I shall not gaze upon that which is only yours and Saphira's." Ris'ka swore with a closed fist placed over her chest.

Eragon looked hard at her, then sighed. "I will let you gaze into my mind then." He relented, though Arya and Orik seemed surprised by his choice.

Ris'ka offered him a quick nod and walked over to where he stood. She place both her hands against his cheeks, which once again developed a red hint, and tilted his head up a bit. Ris'ka then lowered her head until hers and Eragon's foreheads touched.

She closed her eyes and concentrated hard on the task she wished to complete…

And into Eragon's mind she delved…

True to her word, Ris'ka steered completely away from his memories, and focused on finding his mana pool. As she traversed the confines of his mind, she noted how different it felt compared to the mind of a Liz'arin.

Though she swore not to gaze at his memories, Eragon's emotions and feelings were a completely different matter. They were everywhere, hardly restrained, if at all. Love, anger, joy, confusion and more made navigating his mind surprisingly challenging. The chaotic emotions made it blatantly obvious that Eragon had recently reached his mating age.

A Liz'arin child would be excited by this, for it means they are ready to partake in the Blood Trials. But Eragon was not a Liz'arin.

While the main reasons for the Blood Trials are to strengthen the strong and snuff out the weak, they provided another, more subtle benefit.

When not hunting or avoiding predators, the youths spend their time in the Proving Grounds sorting out the changes to their bodies. Their minds do not mature as fast as their bodies do, so youths are confused and often scared by these strange changes. However, their familiars are much more balanced in this regard, as their mind matures faster than their body, making it easy for them to understand how to deal with these changes when they arrive.

The familiar instructs their other half on how to deal with these new feelings, often when they are eating or setting up camp. It is the _true_ reason the Blood Trial lasts a whole rain.

But Eragon did not have a familiar to help him through these changes, nor did he likely have much time to discuss them with his traveling companions during his trip here. Saphira was too young, and dragons view everything, even maturity, differently than other creatures.

Perhaps when there was time, Ris'ka could help him understand what was happening to him. The urges brought by the body's growth can be very distracting, especially if one does not know how to deal with them, and from what little she knew of this land, distractions are something few can afford to have.

Ris'ka cleared her own mind of these thoughts. She needed to stay focused if she was to find his mana pool. After what felt like an eternity (actually about a minute or two) Ris'ka found his mana pool.

Or where it would be.

In place of his mana pool, a great barrier stood in Ris'ka's path. A mighty barricade of magical energy too powerful to remove without risk of death. Time had allowed it grow powerful, its magical roots were imbedded deep within Eragon's mind; nothing short of the Spirits themselves could remove such strong magic. Ris'ka knew what she was looking at. It was what the High Shaman removed from her so many rains ago…

Ris'ka quickly left Eragon's mind and returned to her own. She backed away from Eragon instinctively, fearing the curse might try to take root in her. For a moment, she could not find her voice, the terror of seeing that which severs one's connection to the Spirit Plane, seeing what she was saved from…

It left her speechless…

She jumped when Night-Scale nudged her side with her head. Ris'ka reached down, and gently petted her dranther partner, needing a distraction from what she just saw.

"Well, did you find what you wanted?" Arya asked. Orik was next to Eragon, asking if he was well, Eragon shook his head yes.

"I did… though I wish I had not." Ris'ka said, looking towards Eragon. "There is a curse placed upon you. A curse too old and too powerful to be removed. It will forever hinder you." Her words brought a look of shock from Arya and an expression of terror from Eragon.

"What?" Eragon whispered.

"Your mana pool is blocked, stunting your power and forcing you to rely on your body's energy to use magic. Were you younger it might be possible to remove, but its roots are too deep now. I am sorry." Ris'ka said with a small bow of her head.

"That is what you wanted to confirm? If Eragon was cursed or not? Why?" Arya asked, her eyes narrowed.

"When the High Shaman of my clan examined me as an infant, he found a similar curse placed upon me. He was able to remove it, but only because I was young and the curse was not rooted as deeply as it is with Eragon." She looks Arya in the eye. "I wanted to see if what you said was true. If I was truly born from those who once lived in this land. That Eragon carries the same curse shows you were right."

"Am I going to die?" Eragon asked, his voice laced with fear. Saphira lowered her head and nuzzled her Rider in an attempt to comfort him.

Ris'ka shook her head. "Not outright, but could if you use too much magic." Ris'ka informed him. "Just be careful with number of spells you weave and how powerful they are."

Eragon nodded his head dumbly, relieved that the curse would not kill him outright, and leaned into Saphira. Orik let out a sigh of relief and muttered something into his beard. Arya, however, still looked at Ris'ka with a strong gaze.

"You still have not answered how you are able to use magic without the Ancient Language." She reminded her, not having forgotten the original question.

Ris'ka sighed and sat back down on the cushion with Night-Scale lying on her left and Dra'kor's large head on the right. "Magic is a gift given to the Liz'arin by the Great Spirits many rains ago, when the first Liz'arins bonded with the first familiars. A connection to the Spiritual Plane, (the land of the Spirits), Liz'arins are able to tap into its infinite energy and cast spells ranging from simple lightning bolts to storms of raining fire."

"That is how you use magic? By tapping into some ethereal plane where your deities reside?" Arya asked with a raised eyebrow and skepticism lacing her voice.

All three of them were tired from her condescending manner at this point. Ris'ka had answered her questions truthfully, yet Arya refused to believe her words. Both Night-Scale and Dra'kor had pulled their lips back into snarls and hissed at the woman. Ris'ka settled for a simple glare.

"Believe me or don't, I have answered your questions truthfully." Ris'ka said in a dangerous voice, her glare never leaving Arya.

Ris'ka curtly turned form Arya, and looked towards Orik. "Do both Ajihad and Rex Hrothgar know what happened?" She asked the dwarf, her voice no longer holding the venom it did for Arya.

Orik nodded. "Yes, both were informed of your collapse. Ajihad wanted the healers to look at you once he heard, but neither Night-Scale nor Dra'kor would let them come near you."

"They are wary when it comes to strangers." Ris'ka said as she placed a hand on Dra'kor's snout. "I am sorry I was unable to demonstrate my skills as Ajihad wished, but if he still wants to know how skilled I am, I would not mind sparring right now."

"But you just woke up from fainting." Eragon protested, and looked as if he was about to continue, before Ris'ka held up her hand to silence him.

"I have hunted and killed a full-grown bronx only a day after recovering from the poison of the dart-flower. Fainting will hardly dull my senses." Ris'ka stated confidently.

Saphira must have found that funny, for she let out puffs of smoke from her nostrils. Eragon and Orik, however, seemed reluctant to let her fight. Arya walked over to a less crowded spot in the cave and drew her narrow sword.

"I will test your blades then, Ris'ka of the Screaming Skulls." Arya proclaimed, pointing her blade at Ris'ka.

In an eye-blink, Ris'ka had her scimitars out and was charging towards her challenger with such speed, Arya barely had time to parry the wrist blades. Ris'ka jumped back after the initial strike, and began circling Arya with her arms spread wide, tempting her to strike.

Arya to, began circling Ris'ka, her blade held in front of her in her left hand. Ris'ka had Arya at a disadvantage, with two blades she can parry with one scimitar and attack with the other. Also, swords are clunky, inelegant weapons that have many exploitable weaknesses. Unlike the scimitar, it is very easy to disarm an opponent wielding a sword because it is not fixed to the wrist. They often leave the wielder open to an attack should the wielder fail to land a hit. And they are only good for combat, hunting with a sword is like trying to calm down an angry carnasour: it often fails and ends badly for everyone.

Though swords are rare sights in Lizar'ik, it is not unheard of for Liz'arin to use them. The Naga, for example, often wield the toothy nose-bone of the sawtooth shark similarly to how one would wield a sword. This type of weapon brings slow death to its victims, slicing at the joint areas like the elbow and knee, bleeding them to death.

But this weapon is also used when hunting sea animals. Whales and dolphins are prime targets. Their soft hides make it easy for the sawblade to slice deep into their flesh, so deep that entire chunks of flesh can be cut off. This allows the hunter to sever important limbs, like the flippers and tail, off of fast-moving prey such as dolphins, and to literally carve slow-moving prey, like whales, alive.

However, this weapon is used mainly by the Naga, since the hides of the land animals are too strong for it to slice through.

But Arya did not wield a sawblade, she wielded a sword forged in metal, a substance reserved mainly to craft long lasting tools like drills and hammers. It also did not look like it was made of iron either, as it shone too brightly.

Ris'ka narrowed her eyes and focused solely on her opponent. They had been circling for about minute before Ris'ka pounced again. She leapt into the air with her right scimitar raised strike. Arya swiftly sidestepped to the right to avoid the blow, Ris'ka was able to adjust her strike however, and slashed to the right instead of down. Arya parried the blow, but was forced to jump away when Ris'ka brought her left scimitar in for an upwards diagonal slash.

Not giving her any chances, Ris'ka dashed at Arya with a flurry of stabs and slashes, putting her on the defensive. As she continued to barrage Arya with hits, Ris'ka couldn't help but be impressed by how well she was keeping up with her. Very few could match Ris'ka's speed with a scimitar, and often compared her to a whirlwind, earning her the title of Little-Whirlwind.

And even though she was barely keeping up with her strikes, Arya was lasting longer than any foe Ris'ka had faced before. What's more, Arya did not even looked tired.

Ris'ka did not let this distract her however. She was going to end this duel, now.

With a strong sideways sweep, Ris'ka smacks Arya's sword arm away. Not wasting a second, she lunges forward, her mouth open wide as she goes for Arya's neck. The move must have surprised Arya, for once Ris'ka had her teeth around her neck she faltered and fell onto her back, bringing Ris'ka with her.

"Dead." Ris'ka growls, still attached to Arya's neck. Her teeth might not be as sharp as a Liz'arin's, but they were still capable of tearing out a throat. Dra'kor let out a low hum at her victory and Night-Scale flexed her feathers up and down in a silent cheer.

Arya said nothing. Even after Ris'ka removed herself from her neck, Arya remained silent. Ris'ka looked over to where the others stood, only to see shock and mild disgust on Eragon and Orik's faces, and amusement on Saphira's.

Eragon recovered first and glared at Ris'ka. "You cheated." He accused, inciting a look of shock from Ris'ka and growls from Night-Scale and Dra'kor.

"Cheated!? How did I possibly cheat?" Ris'ka was furious at his slanderous remark. How dare he accuse her of cheating, she had fought fairly and won fairly.

"You _bit _her." He sates, like it's some kind of heinous act.

"I fail to see how that's cheating, Eragon. I beat her fairly." Ris'ka countered.

"You don't bite people when you fight!" He all but yelled.

"And why not? Saphira bites when she fights others, does she not? What makes it so bad for us to do the same?"

Eragon tried to retort, but stopped himself like he wasn't sure. He settled to simply glare at Ris'ka, before walking past her to help Arya.

"Are you going to fight her now, Eragon?" Ris'ka asked, only to receive an angry glare from the youth as he lifted Arya up.

"Arya tested Eragon while you were unconscious, Ris'ka." Orik informed her, Ris'ka nodded at the dwarf, then turned to see Arya and Eragon walking out to Saphira's cave, with the dragoness close behind them.

Orik bid his own farewells, and left the cave, no doubt to inform his Rex on what he saw.

With their guests gone and anger in her mind, Ris'ka jumped onto Dra'kor's head and began the Dance of Blades. Dra'kor did not raise his head this time, as the cave's ceiling would not allow it, and simply laid his head down on the cushion.

'_How dare he accuse you of cheating! You beat that bare-faced bitch fairly.' _Night-Scale growled.

'_Eragon clearly has feeling for her, though why I do not know. She seems rather shapeless if you ask me.' _Dra'kor commented.

'_And her attitude! She's more judgmental than a Soul Judge! How could she mock the Great Spirits as she did? What could that boy possibly see in her?' _Night-Scale all but hissed.

'_He is young, and has just reached his mating age. He probably does not truly understand what he feels for her and mistakes it for love.' _Ris'ka offered as she performed a mid-air spin-slice.

'_Those misguided feelings will only lead to disappointment. She does not smell like the kind to let others close to her.' _Dra'kor added in as Ris'ka landed back on his head.

'_I know. When I have the time, I think I will help him understand his feelings better.' _Ris'ka informed them, earning a snort from Night-Scale.

'_I wager as soon as you start talking about it, he'll either go completely red again or think your insulting him. Maybe even both.' _Night-Scale said.

They talked for a while longer as Ris'ka continued to perform the Dance, until she finally halted her practice. Ris'ka undid her braid, removed her weapons and clothes, and went over to lay down with Night-Scale and Dra'kor. They bid each other good sleeps and drifted off.

* * *

The sound of fast footsteps echoing through the hold, woke the three from their slumber. Ris'ka went out to the entrance to see a dwarf standing just outside of it. Once he saw her his eyes went wide, his face went red, and he turned his head sharply to the left.

"Argetlam, please you must come! Wake Eragon. Ajihad summons you. Great trouble, no time!" The dwarf spoke quickly, before running out of the dragonhold with the same urgent speed he entered it with.

None of them question the dwarf's words and prepare for departure. Ris'ka quickly put on her silk clothes, not bothering to put on the skull, shin guards, or sandals she normally wore. Opting for just her dagger, she quickly strapped the sheath to her leg before strapping on Dra'kor's saddle.

As Ris'ka worked on the saddle, Night-Scale headed into Eragon and Saphira's cave to wake them. A surprised yelp, followed by annoyed grumbling and Night-Scale's snickering, told Ris'ka they were awake.

"We need to go and find Orik, something has happened." Ris'ka yells out so that Eragon hears her. "Bring your blade."

Night-Scale quickly trotted back into their cave and onto the basket saddle. Ris'ka jumped on to and after strapping themselves in, the exited the cave to take off. Eragon was still strapping his saddle onto Saphira, but Ris'ka and her others did not wait for them. With a powerful flap, they ascended into the air and silently flew down to where Orik waited, Saphira and Eragon soon following them.

Orik was standing at the same gates as the day before. When they landed, they could see the grim expression covering his face.

"Come, the others are waiting." He quickly said, leading them to where Ajihad's strange room lay.

Eragon barraged the dwarf with questions to what was going on, Ris'ka herself was curious, but opted to remain silent. It didn't matter however, as Orik knew little of the situation himself.

They reached the large doors, which were opened by a pair of burly guards. Ajihad stood behind his desk, thoroughly examining what looked like a map. Arya and a man with wiry arms were there as well.

Ajihad looked up. "Good, you're both here. Meet Jörmundur, my second in command."

The Riders acknowledged him as he did the same, then turned their attention back to the black-hide chief.

"I roused the eight of you because we are all in grave danger. About half an hour ago a dwarf ran out of an abandoned tunnel under Tronjheim. He was bleeding and nearly incoherent, but had enough sense left to tell the dwarves what was pursuing him: an army of Urgals, maybe a day's march from here."

Shocked silence filled the room. Then the man named Jörmundur swore with explosive force, before asking questions along with Orik. Arya remained silent, as did Eragon. Ris'ka also opted for silence, doubting any piece she might say would be heard over the clamoring of the two males.

'_Sounds like someone didn't heed your advice.'_ Night-Scale commented, referring to when they first met Ajihad and Ris'ka warned him to prepare.

Ajihad raised his hands. "Quiet! There is more. The Urgals aren't approaching _over_ land, but _under_ it. They're in the tunnels… we're going to be attacked from below."

"Why didn't the dwarves know about this sooner? How did the Urgals find the tunnels?" Eragon asked with a loud voice.

"We're lucky to know about it this early!" Orik bellowed, he then went on to tell of how there are hundreds of tunnels in the Beor Mountains, but Ris'ka was only half listening.

Orik was wrong, they had known sooner. The war pack hunting Eragon and his companions was a clear indication that an army was close behind. The fact they were so panicked made it clear that they were not prepared for a fight. This mountain hideaway had made them feel protected, too protected. In their arrogance, they had believed they were completely safe in this hollow mountain… and now they're paying for it.

"I warned you to prepare for an attack, and you waved that warning away like a fly." Ris'ka told Ajihad as she approached the map on the table. "The moment you saw the Urgals you should have been preparing your warriors for battle."

"I realize that now, but ridiculing me for my past mistake will not aid us in the coming fight." Ajihad replied, annoyed regret lacing his tone.

"True words, good you know this." Ris'ka said as she looked down at the map, Night-Scale by her side.

It was a map of a land she did not recognize. A large jungle to the north, a long coastline mostly covered by mountains to the west, a large emptiness in the center, and many great mountains in the southeast.

The land depicted had to be the land they were in, but where on it were they? Ajihad answered as he pointed near the large cluster of mountains in the southeast.

"This," he said, "is where the dwarf claimed to have come from."

"Orthíad!" Orik exclaimed, enticing a puzzled inquiry from Jörmundur, to which Orik quickly explained. "It's an ancient dwelling of ours that was deserted when Tronjheim was completed. During its time it was the greatest of our cities. But no one's lived there for centuries."

"And it's old enough for some of the tunnels to have collapsed," continued Ajihad. "That's how we surmise it was discovered from the surface. I suspect that Orthíad is now being called Ithrö Zhâda. That's where the Urgal column that was chasing Eragon and Saphira was supposed to go, and I'm sure it's where the Urgals have been migrating all year. From Ithrö Zhâda they can travel anywhere they want in the Beor Mountains. They have the power to destroy both the Varden and the dwarves."

Jörmundur then asked Ajihad what he knew about the approaching army, to which Ajihad replied he knew very little. He then went on to explain that Rex Galbatorix did not want others to know of his alliance with the Urgals, and that should the enemy succeed, runners had already been sent to a person named Orrin and the elves so they would have some warning of the army.

"I've already talked to Hrothgar, and we've decided on a course of action. Our only hope is to contain the Urgals in three of the larger tunnels and channel them into Farthen Dûr so they don't swarm inside Tronjhiem like locusts." Ajihad explained.

"That's stupid." Ris'ka stated bluntly, Jörmundur and Orik yelled out at her comment.

"And what would _you_ say we do? Let them swarm us?!" Jörmundur said, clearly angered by her comment towards is leader.

"What is easier to kill? An animal that can move or an animal restrained?" She asked them, bringing forth confused looks of anger from those around her.

"What does that have to do with anything?!" Orik yelled.

'_How dense are these people?'_ Night-Scale asked, clearly baffled that they didn't understand the metaphor.

'_Very dense it seems.' _Dra'kor added.

Ris'ka sighed. "Hold them in the tunnels where their numbers count for nothing and the victory will be ours."

Realization _finally_ found its way onto their faces, Ajihad looked down at the map. "Your tactic is a good one. I'll see about implementing it into our own strategy." He said. "For now, I'm going to need you, Eragon, Arya and Ris'ka, to help the dwarves collapse extraneous tunnels. The job is too big for normal means. Two groups of dwarves are already working on it: one outside Tronjheim, the other beneath it. Eragon and Ris'ka, you're to work with the group outside. Arya, you'll be with the one underground; Orik will guide you to them."

"Why not collapse all the tunnels instead of leaving the large ones untouched?" Eragon asked.

"Because," Orik began, "that would force the Urgals to clear away the rubble, and they might decide to go in a direction we don't want them to. Plus, if we cut ourselves off, they could attack other dwarf cities – which we wouldn't be able to assist in time."

"There's also another reason," said Ajihad. "Hrothgar warned me that Tronjheim sits on such a dense network of tunnels that if too many are weakened, sections of the city will sink into the ground under their own weight. We can't risk that."

Jörmundur was the next to speak. "So there won't be any fighting inside Tronjheim? You said the Urgals would be channeled outside the city, into Farthen Dûr."

Ajihad responded swiftly, "That's right. We can't defend Tronjheim's entire perimeter – it's too big for our forces – so we're going to seal all the passageways and gates leading into it. That will force the Urgals out onto the flats surrounding Tronjheim, where there's plenty of maneuvering room for our armies. Since the Urgals have access to the tunnels, we cannot risk an extended battle. As long as they are here, we will be in constant danger of them quarrying up through Tronjheim's floor. If that happens, we'll be trapped, attacked from both the outside and inside. If they secure it, it's doubtful we will have the strength to roust them."

"And what of our families?" Jörmundur asked. "I won't see my wife and son murdered by Urgals."

The lines on Ajihad's face deepened. "All the women and children are being evacuated into the surrounding valleys. If we are defeated, they have guides to take them to Surda. That's all I can do, under the circumstances."

This seemed to bring him relief, though he tried to hide it. "Sir, is Nasuada going as well?" Jörmundur asks.

"She is not pleased, but yes." Everyone turned their eyes to Ajihad as he squared his shoulders. "The Urgals will arrive in a matter of hours." He announced. "We know their numbers are great, but we _must_ hold Farthen Dûr. Failure will mean the dwarves' downfall, death to the Varden – and eventual defeat for Surda and the elves. This is one battle we cannot lose. Now go and complete your tasks! Jörmundur, ready the men to fight."

'_Finally we get to spill some blood.'_ Night-Scale commented as everyone left the room and went to their assigned areas.

'_I too relish this opportunity to fight new foes. We caught them off guard the first time, but now it will be a true battle!'_ Ris'ka could barely contain the primal grin forming on her face. The Urgals were fierce warriors and she was looking forward to adding their skulls to her collection.

'_We will eat very well this night, for the food comes to us!' _Dra'kor licked his lips in hunger at the thought of all that meat.

And so the Riders left to assist in the above ground work, while Orik and Arya headed down into the depths to collapse the tunnels below. All in preparation for what would be Ris'ka's first real battle since arriving in this land.

Oh, she would show both friend and foe alike the unbridled ferocity of the Screaming Skulls clan.

* * *

Hours past and still the Urgals did not show. All they had been doing the past several hours was collapsing tunnel after tunnel. The work was easy for Ris'ka and her partners, but Eragon was clearly becoming exhausted.

They had just collapsed over a half-dozen tunnels throughout the mountain. After their latest work, Eragon surveyed the land with curiosity and was soon joined by Ris'ka and Night-Scale.

A mass of women and children could be seen leaving with several warriors as escorts. Ris'ka didn't understand why they didn't let the women fight with them, the added numbers would help significantly. These humans were a strange bunch.

The three groups of warriors garnered their attention more than the noncombatants. Both humans and dwarves made up these boxes of metal covered warriors. Each held a strange banner depicting a white dragon perched on a sword with a red flower in its grip. It looked weird and silly to Ris'ka, how would such a banner strike fear into the hearts of their enemies?

A small figure broke off from the furthest group and hurried their way. Ris'ka soon saw that it was Orik, clad in similar fashion to the rest of his kin.

"Ajihad wants you to join the army," he tells them. "There are no more tunnels to cave in. Food is waiting for both of you."

They all began to follow Orik, when Ris'ka stopped herself. She looked back at the rubble and realized something. The Urgals were much stronger and more numerous than the humans and dwarves, even if they were held in the tunnels they could quickly overpower their foes and break out.

If the Varden was going to win this battle, then they would need all the help available to them.

And Ris'ka could summon such help.

She reached her mind out to the Spirits living in the stone. There were many Spirits residing in the stone of the mountain, but many were lesser Spirits and would offer little help. Then, she found one that would surely be helpful. It was old, very old and asleep, most likely for thousands of rains.

Ever so carefully, Ris'ka reached towards the slumbering Spirit and stirred it from its long sleep.

The effects were almost instant. The ground shook violently as the Spirit's material form took shape. Rocks began swirling and flying around each other, forming large boulders that were connected by bands of orange ethereal energy.

Ris'ka could hear a commotion near her, but paid it little mind. The Spirit was almost fully awake now.

When she finally stopped feeding her energy into the colossus, much of her mana pool was drained, but it was worth it. Before her stood a twenty five foot-tall stone giant made up of floating boulders.

A small stone sat atop the chest boulder, bright orange dots that served as eyes burned with ancient and primal power. Ris'ka bowed respectfully to the mighty Spirit, her arms stretched out. Night-Scale and Dra'kor also bowed to the great giant.

Eragon, Saphira and Orik however, were too shocked to even move.

The Spirit stirred, the sound of rock rubbing against rock echoed through the air.

"**Who has woken me from my slumber?"** The Spirit speaks with such volume, it could be heard from the other side of the mountain.

"I have, O mighty one. Ris'ka of the Screaming Skulls clan. I woke you from your ancient sleep because I seek your aid." She kept her head down, waiting for the Spirit to tell her otherwise.

"**Raise your heads, children of flesh, and tell me why you seek the aid of the Spirits."**

The three did as it asked and raised their heads. As soon as the Spirit saw their faces, it rubbed its tiny head with its oversized fingers, the grating sound of moving stone caused many to wince. **"It has been a very long time since I or my kin have been summoned by a child of flesh. Many believed your kind had forgotten how to commune with us. Not since the time before the Speakers have children of flesh been able to speak with us. Tell me little Ris'ka, what it is you seek from me?"**

Ris'ka was curious about what he said, but did not dwell on it. "I am from a different land, great stone father. One that has not forgotten the ways of the Spirits. I seek aid for those who have lived in your mountain for generations. An enemy is coming, great in number and strength, there is little chance of victory. Please, I ask that you lend us your aid."

The Spirit was silent for a while, staring off at the white pyramid before turning his gaze to Orik. He looked down at the dwarf intently, before speaking again. **"I know this place, and I know you, child of stone."** He points a finger at Orik. **"Your enemy would dare to attack those who were birthed from bodies of stone? They are fools then, for the Earth protects its children from those would seek to harm them!"**

"Thank you Great Spirit, the enemy will emerge from three tunnels, choose any one of them to guard. We shall defend the others." Ris'ka thanked the Spirit with a bow and received a nod in return.

The mighty giant then strode off towards the tunnels, each step shaking the earth. Many fled in terror of it, despite hearing its words, but none dare attack it, for their weapons would simply bounce off its stone covered hide.

Eragon, Saphira and Orik finally came out of their shock induced stupor, only to stare dumbly at Ris'ka. She grinned victoriously, before she and Night-Scale jumped onto Dra'kor's back.

"Tell Ajihad the giant is a friend. He will assist us in defeating the Urgals." She told them, and without wait for a reply, took off for the dragonhold.

'_Did you see the look on Saphira's face? Hilarious!' _Night-Scale laughed as she recalled their expressions.

'_It is good she has seen this. Hopefully her arrogant attitude with diminish now that she has seen a being far greater than she.' _Dra'kor added.

'_I only wish that Arya had seen the Spirit. The look on her face would have been more enjoyable than a first kill.'_ Ris'ka contributed with a laugh of her own.

The landed on the red stone floor of the dragonhold and entered their cave. Ris'ka first tied her braid, as she had not done so when she woke up. Once tied, she took off her clothes and began putting on her armor. Once it was in place, she strapped on her belt and scimitar sheaths, placed her bracers on, slung her bow and quiver over her back, and donned her helmet.

She removed Night-Scale's armor from one of the bags, along with a tail spear. A tail spear is a weapon placed over the end of the tail that allows the wearer to slice and stab using their tail. It's a very common weapon in the Saurous tribe, and is used by nearly every Naga. It is one of the few weapons that can be used by both Liz'arin and familiar.

Ris'ka lacked a tail however, but Night-Scale did not.

Ris'ka placed the armor on first. Night-Scales loathed wearing her armor, she hated how it pressed down on her feathers, making them itch terribly. Never the less, she would endure. Once the armor was secured, Ris'ka attached the tail spear to Night-Scale's tail. A little strap enforced with magic held the tip in place.

Night-Scale tested the armor, moving and flexing her body and tail to make sure it was on probably. As she did this, Ris'ka moved on to Dra'kor.

She first had to remove the saddle so it would not be hindrance as she put on the armor. The chest and back armor was first, followed by the tail, legs, and neck. The armor was harder to put on than it was to take off, so it took a considerable amount of time to equip. Ris'ka was just about to help put on the helmet, when she heard the door leading into the hold open and feet moving on the floor. A foul, familiar stench filled their noses.

'_What is one of _them_ doing here?' _Night-Scale growled.

'_I'm about to find out.' _Ris'ka drew her scimitars and exited cave.

The Twin didn't hear her approach, so she clapped her scimitars together to get his attention. He jumped several inches and whirled around, only to go pale when he saw her in her armor.

"What are you doing here?" Ris'ka hissed, glaring form within her helmet.

The Twin collected himself and glared back at the champion. "I have been ordered by Ajihad to observe the battle from the hold and rely information to him through my brother. You will have to communicate to us mentally if you wish to warn Ajihad should something unexpected happen." He spoke smugly, as if had just finished some big hunt.

Ris'ka let out a hiss. "I would rather let carrion parrots eat me alive than allow either of you into my mind." She turned sharply, not even looking towards the Twin who was glaring at her hard enough to kill a boulder-back beast.

Ris'ka placed Dra'kor's helmet on his head, but she did not take time to admire her partner and quickly put the saddle back on. She jumped on, quickly followed by Night-Scale, who had Ris'ka's spear in her mouth. Once the two females were secure Dra'kor exited the cave and leapt into the air.

Ris'ka could see the mighty stone goliath, standing guard at the central tunnel. She quickly spotted Saphira, the metal armor she wore was not easy to miss. They landed and were greeted by Orik, Arya, an armored Eragon, and surprisingly enough Murtagh.

When Ris'ka asked why he was out, Murtagh explained to her that Ajihad saw this as a good way to test his loyalty. Ris'ka nodded approvingly to this before telling him to keep count of his kills. Orik offered her and her others some food, but she declined. Orik simply shrugged and went off to find a place to rest.

The others quickly followed his example and went to sleep. Only Ris'ka, Night-Scale, Dra'kor and Nigh-Scale remained awake. Ris'ka had taken her spear from Night-Scale and strapped it to her back. She was now perched on Dra'kor's skull armored head. Eagerly eying the tunnel entrances.

She wouldn't need to wait long for her dinner…

* * *

**Author's Note: To those who love whales and dolphins I am sorry about the graphic descriptions concerning the Naga's way of hunting. But you don't have to worry about their numbers in this, Liz'arin know not to over hunt their food supply.**

**Also, I forgot to mention: Dranthers and Saurous can use their crests as a type of sign language. Also, all Liz'arin and familiars are capable of mimicking sound except for the coral serpent. And that despite being reptiles, the Liz'arin and their familiars are warm-blooded, and give birth to live young, except for the drawk, which lays eggs. And I should probably mention, Liz'arin scales are as tough as chainmail, and their bones are extremely strong, save for the Ga'goyle.**

**A Bronx is an aggressive herbivore similar in looks to the Diablosaurus form World of Kong. Think rhino mixed with dinosaur, pretty awesome looking. They are named for the noises they make.**

**Also, carrion parrots. Anyone whose read the World of Kong, you know what they look like.**

**Va –Me, my, mine, I (basically for whenever someone is referring to themself)**

**Va horuk mit shavas – I swear on my honor**

**Description of the Ga'goyle tribe**

**Both male and female Ga'goyle are roughly five feet in height and have a wing span of ten feet. They have wiry frames built for speed rather than strength, and their bones are hollow, making them very fragile. Their tails are also much shorter than the tail of Saurous, roughly three feet long. Like the Saurous, Ga'goyle possess feathered crests that vary in shape, color and size.**

**Their bat-like wings can either be folded up at the back or draped over their entire body like a cloak (Any of you seen the show Gargoyles you know what I mean.) While the wings are capable of lifting a Ga'goyle off the ground from a standstill, the Ga'goyle prefer to save their strength by riding the wind currents and gliding. They are capable of flapping their wings to stay aloft, but mostly for when they are stopping, carrying prey or changing wind currents.**

**In place of feet they have zygodactyl, one-and-a-half-foot-long, talons. Their hands also have sharper and longer claws than those of a Saurous or Naga. Their talons are strong enough to crush a skull inside of a steel helmet, as easily as one would pop a grape. Their power comes at a price, however, due to the size of the talons Ga'goyle cannot run very well on ground. The size, coupled with the hollow bone structure, makes running very dangerous for them. They are, however, completely fine traveling from tree to tree, using their strong claws and talons to hold onto branches and tree trunks as they swing through the trees like a lemur.**

**Their eyes are slightly larger than the other tribes, and are twice as strong as a bald eagle's eyes. They can see clearly even on nights when the only light comes from the stars.**

**They live high up on the Serpents Back Mountains in either cliff wall caves, plateaus shielded from the winds, or old cities found on some of the mountains. These cities are made up of large, pillar-like building ranging between three to six stories high. Dubbed rockeries by the Ga'goyle, each story has a thick wooden pole sticking out right under the doorway, to allow easy landings and take offs.**

**Unlike the Naga or Saurous, who usually only have one child at a time, Ga'goyle females almost always give birth to twins (and sometimes triplets). It is extremely rare for a Ga'goyle to have only one child and is seen as a bad omen. Ga'goyle chicks are capable of gliding when they are three years old and self-propelled flight at seven.**

**The reason that the Ga'goyle have more children than the Naga or Saurous is because out of all the Liz'arin, they live the shortest. Many rarely reach 100 years, the oldest they live to is 150. This is because their hollow bones make them highly susceptible to injury. A broken wing or foot often means death for a Ga'goyle. They also have very few shamans in their tribe, and even fewer who can heal such wounds. The threat of crippling themselves forces many Ga'goyle to hunt small game: lemurs, rock lizards, birds, large insects and rodents, and so on. They also scavenge meat from kills made by other animals, like raptors and carnasours.**

**The higher birth rate balances the deaths out, and prevents their numbers from dropping too low.**

**Do not let this fool you, however, Ga'goyle are still just as ferocious as the other tribes. Their speed and agility let them dance around their opponents and prey, and their sharp claws and talons can rip a grown Kull to pieces. If anything, this burden allows the Ga'goyle to develop devious hunting methods that no Saurous or Naga could ever hope to conceive. They are famous for creating some of the most effective and brutal hunting traps, and weapons in all of Lizar'ik. They were the inventors of the bolas-blade and razor-nets, which they use to take down prey that would otherwise be life threatening for them to hunt.**

**During times of battle, Ga'goyle warriors wear special talon gauntlets over their already formidable feet. These gauntlets are light enough to wear without hampering speed or agility, yet are sharp and strong enough to cut through thick iron. Some also wear sharp plates taken from animals on their wings, allowing them to swoop down and decapitate their victims without landing.**

**Most Ga'goyle clans wear their clan mark on their wings, though some clans wear it on their face and some wear it on both. They wear very little in regards to clothing, their wings can shield their bodies from the elements as easily as any garment. A loincloth and chest cover are usually all they wear. In battle, they wear only light armor so that their speed is not hindered, though many don't wear any armor at all.**

**Hope you like the tidbit on the Ga'goyle tribe.**

**Also, if you're wondering about the use of k instead of q, it's because there are no words with q in the Liz'arin language. It's an accent thing for her.**

**As always, please, fav, follow and review. Thank You!**

**DeadRich18 Out!**


	10. Chapter 9: Battle of the Hollow Mountain

**I do not own Inheritance Cycle it belongs to Christopher Paolini. I do however own the fantasy culture and the race that practices it.**

**Sorry it took so long and sorry this one is going to be a pretty short chapter. But hey, it was already a short ass chapter in the book so no real harm done. We are drawing ever closer to the meeting with the queen of the elves. How do you think it will go down? Leave what you think will happen in a review please. Anyway, here's chapter 9.**

**Savagery**

**Chapter Nine: Battle of the Hollow Mountain**

* * *

"It has begun." Arya said with a sorrow filled face.

"You say that like it's a bad thing." Ris'ka comments, not taking her eyes off the three tunnels.

She didn't need to look to tell the others were glaring at her. She cared little for it though, the promise of blood and battle was all that filled her mind. Ever since their arrival here, Ris'ka had become increasingly confused and frustrated by the strangeness of this place. The Dance of Blades helped calm her, but it could only work for so long. This advancing army was the perfect opportunity for her to vent out her boiled up feelings without fear of any negative consequences.

That, and provide her and her partners with dinner.

Ris'ka slid down Dra'kor's neck and onto the saddle, quickly accompanied by Night-Scale. The others were also readying their weapons for the upcoming fight.

"That stone giant said he felt thousands of vibrations rumbling through the tunnels, and a scout came out of the tunnels not a minute after he spoke." Murtagh said. "The Urgals are coming."

"Let them come!" Ris'ka said eagerly. "We shall greet them with visca'ra'thûl. They coming seeking our blood, but we shall drown them in their own. They will know the great fury of the Screaming Skull clan!"

Dra'kor and Night-Scale both let out short roars of approval, both just as eager as Ris'ka for the chance to spill blood. With a mighty flap, Dra'kor ascended into the air and flew towards the left tunnel, Ris'ka and Night-Scale on his back.

They landed right at the mouth of the entrance, spearmen moved out of the way so they would not be trampled by him. The harsh calls of the Urgals echoed out of the tunnel. Dra'kor looked down into the hole then brought his head back as if to roar.

And roar he did. But this was not just any roar, it was a roar of fire.

His scale-colored flames shot forth from his maw in an unforgiving torrent of heat. A dark glow radiated as he breathed death down onto his foes, their screams of pain overcome by the roar of the fire. He breathed for nearly thirty full seconds before finally closing his mouth and sucking in some much needed air.

Placing a quick ward of heat protection upon herself and Night-Scale, Ris'ka and her dranther companion jumped into tunnel reeking of burnt and burning flesh.

'_Remember, there are others here too. Don't take all the kills for yourselves.'_ Dra'kor reminded them both jokingly and seriously.

'_Come now, Dra'kor. When have we ever let others miss out on a good fight?' _Night-Scale reassured with her usual teasing tone.

'_Hmmm.'_ was the dragon's only response.

'_Don't worry, Dra'kor. There's plenty of meat to go around.' _Ris'ka reminded him.

This was no exaggeration, there were more than enough foes to go around, so Ris'ka and Night-Scale could kill as much as they want before they let the humans and dwarves in on the fun.

Ris'ka was actually surprised when she saw how many Urgals Dra'kor had killed. There were so many burnt up corpses that the stone floor wasn't visible for nearly ten yards. The surviving Urgals dared not move up yet, the heat was too much to bare. Ris'ka and Night-Scale themselves would both be cooking alive if not for the ward shielding them from the intense heat.

Undaunted, they charged the Urgals with bloodthirsty screams, and started slaughtering them with complete abandon. Unprepared for the ferocity and suddenness of the assault, many of the Urgals were quickly cut to bloody pieces before they even knew what was happening.

Ris'ka hacked, slashed, stabbed, kicked, bit, parried and butchered her opponents with the kind of ferocity one could only achieve from rains of hunting and battle in the unforgiving jungles of Lizar'ik. Night-Scale weaved through the Urgals like a shadow, stabbing them at the base of the neck with her spear-tail, or tearing chunks out of their legs with her teeth.

Ris'ka reveled in the slaughter. This is where she belonged, in the heat of battle, where one's worth is proven by blood and blade. So consumed in her butchering was she that Ris'ka lost track of time. Twenty minutes passed, and she would have never noticed if Dra'kor had not contacted them.

'_That is enough, Ris'ka, Night-Scale. The warriors at the mouth of the tunnel are becoming restless, they yearn to face the foe.' _He told them.

Ris'ka tsked, _'Very well. Night-Scale, time to let the humans and dwarves in on the fun.' _She told her partner just as she bisected a Kull in two.

Night-Scale looked up from the Urgal whose throat she had just torn out and nodded in agreement. The two quickly retreated up the tunnel where the warriors and Dra'kor waited.

They exited the tunnel to find the warriors looking anxious. "The enemy comes for your blood, warriors of the Varden!" She yells out to them. "Show them your blood is not so easy to spill!" The warriors cheered and readied themselves for the Urgal offensive. Cauldrons of steaming tar were poured down into the tunnel followed by another blast of fire from Dra'kor.

Ris'ka did not stay for this battle, though, she would leave it in the hands of these humans to hold the line here while she and her partners looked for where they were needed most. After Dra'kor finished breathing fire down the hole, they took off into the air, giving them a full view of the battle.

The central tunnel was holding strong, the stone elemental destroyed any Urgal that tried to exit the tunnel with mighty blows from his rocky fists and boulder feet. The only evidence of the Urgals numbers near it were the scores of smashed bodies strewn out in front of it. The right and left tunnels were not doing so well however, the Urgals numbers and strength were pushing the defenders slowly but surely back towards the white pyramid.

She quickly spotted Saphira, the blue dragoness fighting tooth and claw against the numerous Urgals. It reminded Ris'ka of a thunder-lizard trying to fight off a pack of hungry raptors. But no matter how many Urgals she lashed out at, more took their place. She soon spotted Eragon, charging at the Urgals attacking his partner with his red blade raised high.

Dra'kor flew over the dense Urgal lines, bathing them in metal melting fire. They tried to bring him down with hails of arrows, but his mother's hide and bones protected him from any real damage. Ris'ka used her aerial advantage to pick off several of the larger Kull with her bow, falling them with quick shots to the head.

After the third pass, Dra'kor lowered himself so that his large tail was dragging against the floor. He then sped through their lines, crushing or tossing any Urgals in his way, then quickly returned to higher elevation.

"**Fight on, warriors of flesh and stone. Fight to protect your home and offspring!**" The mighty Spirit of stone bellowed to the defending humans and dwarves, his words echoing like thunder.

Ris'ka suddenly felt an unfamiliar mind attempt to reach her own. She quickly set up barriers to deny it entry, but lowered them when she recognized it was Eragon.

'_How goes your fight, Eragon? Have you killed many foes?'_ Ris'ka asks the young Rider.

'_Yes, though I doubt as many as you have. Hrothgar needs our help; the fight is not going well for him.'_ He tells her quickly.

'_We will arrive with speed and fury.'_ Ris'ka lets out a loud, primal scream that echoes throughout the hollow mountain. Her thirst for blood was now at its peak, she cared for nothing else, save that her thirst was quenched and her foes beaten. Dra'kor and Night-Scale shared their partner's desire and Dra'kor dove straight towards the mass of Urgals assaulting the old Rex.

Saphira and Eragon were already there, fighting beside the other dwarves. Ris'ka and her partners took a more aggressive approach. Dra'kor landed on several Urgals, crushing them under his weight. Ris'ka and Night-Scale leapt off of him wasted no time bathing themselves in the blood their enemies.

With scimitar, claw, tooth, and strength, they cut a swathe through the Urgals and towards the dwarves. Ris'ka saw a strange woman, garbed in a red cloak, stab an Urgal locked in combat with Eragon right through the chest with a double-sided blade staff. She dashed into the fray, a small human wearing nothing but a loincloth following her.

Ris'ka hollered and waved her blood-soaked arm at Eragon, making him turn to face her. "The fight goes well! Remember to take trophies!" She yells out before pouncing on a Kull and biting his face off.

The battle went on for hours, and Ris'ka spent all the time either flying in the sky or down on the ground killing Urgals. Both Ris'ka and Night-Scale were covered in layers of blood both fresh and old. If one had not seen them fight, they would have thought the two had just taken a bath in the red liquid. Blood covered Dra'kor as well, though it was restricted to his legs and mouth.

Despite the hours of unending combat, the three warriors felt little to no fatigue. Sadly, the same could not be said for the rest of the defenders. Both humans and dwarves were exhausted from the long fight, but the Urgals' constant stream of reinforcements kept them fresh. The stone elemental was not hindered by exhaustion or pain however, and it continued to guard the center tunnel with steadfast resolve. The warriors that had been waiting behind it had long since split in two to assist the tunnels on their flanks, as the giant held the line all on its own.

Ris'ka was just about to slice apart another Urgal, when she suddenly fell to her knees and grasped her head.

'_Ris'ka!'_ Both her partners cried out as she crumpled to the floor. The Urgal made lifted its club to strike, but Night-Scale jumped on it and clawed its face off before it could bring the club down on Ris'ka's head.

Ris'ka breathed in and out heavily, her eyes wide underneath her skull helm. She could feel something, something unspeakably evil and unnatural approaching, but from where she could not tell. But with the feeling came voices, voices filled with pain and suffering, voices pleading for release.

'_**HeLp Us…'**_

'_**FreE uS…'**_

'_**We ARe BoUNd…'**_

'_**wE SeEK EScApe…'**_

'_**SaVE US…'**_

"**It is here!**" The giant rumbled, halting its defense to look towards the white pyramid. "**That which should not be is here! It is here!**" The Urgals tried to run past it, as it was distracted by whatever Ris'ka felt too, but it quickly turned back to them and crushed them under its stone fists.

What was happening? What is that which should not be? What could possibly cause a Great Spirit to react in such a manner?

Then it hit her.

The Shade…

Ris'ka remembered Ajihad saying that a Shade was a possessed body controlled by evil Spirits. These Spirits would no doubt desire more strength, and would most likely enslave other weaker Spirits to steal their power.

She had heard of another being fitting this description.

Ris'ka remembered her brother telling her a story about a shaman who asked a Water Spirit for the power to save his clan from a terrible plague. The Spirit agreed, but asked for the shaman to become its host. Desperate, the shaman ignored the words of warning from his familiar and agreed to become its host.

The Spirit took control of the shaman, body and mind. The shaman learned too late that he had been tricked. He had not made a deal with a Water Spirit, but with a Nolvoc, a demon pretending to be a Water Spirit. The shaman's soul was then devoured by the Nolvoc, who quickly slew the familiar. The monster went on a rampage that lasted three weeks, until a pack consisting of the most powerful shamans in all the tribes finally put it down.

But by then, over thirty clans lay in ruin, and two of the twenty ancient cities had been completely leveled. The Nolvoc was not destroyed easily either, fifteen of the twenty shamans were killed, and three were so badly wounded they died several days later.

It was said the Nolvoc used the shaman's knowledge of summoning to conjure lesser Spirits and enslave them to its will. It would then devour these Spirits, becoming stronger and stronger with each one it devoured.

This is what was approaching them, a Nolvoc. Ris'ka could feel its dark power passing through her, shuddering as its desire to inflict suffering on others weaker than it washed over her.

Ris'ka could not move, she could not think, she could barely breathe. How were they to fight that which even the Great Spirits fear? What hope did they have against such a foe?

_SMACK!_

'_Snap out of it, Ris'ka! This is not the time nor the place for you to be lost in thought!' _Night-Scale said after smacking Ris'ka with her tail.

Dra'kor was in front of them, holding back the tide of Urgals with fire, claw, and tooth. Ris'ka shook her head and stood up on wobbly feet, Night-Scale went to her side to support her. That dreadful feeling Ris'ka felt… she shuddered at the mere memory of it.

'_The Shade beast, the Nolvoc, it is here.' _She told them, still shaken by what she had experienced.

'_We know. Saphira contacted me as you were reeling from the shock. Something is trying to tunnel its way up into the dwarf-den and that Eragon, Arya and herself were going to see what it was.' _Dra'kor said as he swatted away five Urgals with his tail. _'It has to be the Nolvoc.'_

'_We must help them.' _Ris'ka says as her balance finally returns. _'There is no way they can fight such a creature by themselves.'_

Her partners approved, and once Ris'ka and Night-Scale were on Dra'kor, the mighty dragon took off towards the pyramid.

Instead of heading up to the dragonhold, Dra'kor sped right towards one of the mighty gates that led into the city mountain. He rammed his armored head against the hard gate, creating a resonating _thud_. It was not enough, the door still held. Shaking the dull pain away, Dra'kor backed up before dousing the gate in a torrent of flame. He closed his mouth after twenty seconds and charged again. The fire had weakened the wood greatly, and the armored dragon had no problem bashing through it.

An explosion of wooden shards blasted into the central chamber where a circle of Urgals had been watching Eragon fight a pale, flame-haired human. The sudden entrance startled all in the room, making everyone turn their attention towards Ris'ka and her partners.

Ris'ka could feel evil and hatred ooze out of the pale one as if it were overflowing. This was the Nolvoc, the one Ajihad called Durza.

Durza was the first to recover from the shock, and slashed Eragon over the back with his sword. The boy screamed in pain, falling to his knees. It was a dirty move, and Ris'ka let out a scream of rage before jumping off Dra'kor and running towards the abomination, Night-Scale and Dra'kor quickly following her.

"Seize the dragon and Rider!" The Nolvoc ordered the Urgals that had been watching him and Eragon duel. They roared, and charged towards the trio, effectively blocking them from reaching Eragon and the Nolvoc.

"VA MIS THRAS CUR'VAT SA!" Ris'ka yelled at the Nolvoc as she decapitated an Urgal. The demon looked at her and smiled a terrible smile of triumph.

"Give up, Rider. You have lost." He spoke with arrogant assurance, thinking he was right. "Surrender, and you won't be harmed."

"I would sooner die than surrender, much less so to a Nolvoc!" She kicked another Urgal in the side before slashing his arm off.

He snarled, and looked as if he was about to say more, when a deafening roar echoed through the chamber, and cut off any words he might say.

All present looked up, to see the massive red stone-flower had been shattered. Shards, both big and small, plummeted down towards the floor. In the center of the red shards was young Saphira, blue tinged fire spouting from her open mouth, and Arya stop her back. The elf's hair billowed as they shot towards the floor, her hand glowing with green magic.

Ris'ka quickly turned her attention back to the Nolvoc and Eragon, fearing this second distraction would only help the monster further. But the fear proved false. The roles were now reversed. Taking advantage of the distraction, Eragon rushed towards Durza, his sword pointing straight at his heart.

"_Brisingr!_" He shouted, his sword igniting into flames...

And running Durza straight through his heart.

The Nolvoc looked down at the blade impaling him with shock. His mouth hung open, but no words left it, only an unnatural howl. He dropped his sword and tried to pry Eragon's out of himself, but the blade was firmly lodged in his body and would not move.

The Nolvoc's skin suddenly became transparent. But there was no flesh nor bone nor blood underneath his hide, only swirling darkness. He wailed even louder as the darkness within pushed against his skin, cracking it as if it were part of a clay pot. Then, with one final cry, the Nolvoc's body was torn asunder, releasing the many Spirits it had enslaved.

As the Spirits sped through the air and out of the pyramid, Ris'ka could hear their cries of joy for finally being freed from rains of enslavement.

Eragon had done what had taken twenty shamans to do.

He had defeated a Nolvoc.

He had freed countless Spirits from a life of torment.

He was currently about to fall onto the ground.

Ris'ka ran up to him and caught the youth before he could hit the stone floor. She need not worry about the Urgals, in the confusion Dra'kor and Night-Scale finished off the remaining ones so they would not be a hindrance.

"Eragon! Eragon! You must stay awake! It is not yet your time to pass on!" Ris'ka tried to keep him awake by shaking him in her arms, but it was not enough.

He closed his eyes and went limp in her arms.

"Vaka!" Ris'ka cursed. She tore off her helmet and Eragon's metal armor, then placed her ear against his chest. It was weak, but his heart was still beating its rhythmic drum.

Ris'ka quickly leaned him forward and set about healing his wounds, using her magic to fuel his body's own regeneration process. The many cuts and scrapes he had gained from the battle healed fairly quickly, but for some reason, the wound on his back refused to be mended. The Nolvoc's dark magic prevented Ris'ka from treating it, acting as some sort of shield.

'_Even in death, the Nolvoc brings pain.'_ Dra'kor said as he eyed the ropey scar on the human's back.

Saphira and Arya landed with a thud, the shards of the stone falling at an unnaturally slow speed after them, (the work of Arya's word magic no doubt.) They approached Ris'ka with worry and fear, eyeing the limp body of Eragon with dread. Saphira went up to them and nuzzled her unconscious Rider as she mewled fearfully.

"He lives, but my skill alone will not save him." Ris'ka tells them. "Get a healer, now!"

"No need for that, dear. I'm all you'll need." An unfamiliar, female voice calls out, making all present turn their heads to see the curly haired female and the loincloth boy standing at the ruined remains of the gate.

* * *

**Author's Note: I AM SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT! My school has an electronics policy and we can't have our electronics most of the time for the first two weeks of school. I've also been working on my sequel story to my first story. I will try to get these in faster, but no promises.**

**Also, for those of you who are warhammer fans, I am changing the description of the raptors from the dark elf cold ones to the raptors from Skull Island. A majority of the animals in Lizar'ik are influenced by the creatures of that island, and they just fit so well with the already savage land. Don't worry, I will still include several creatures from warhammer fantasy, but I feel like the cold ones are built more for open areas than in a jungle. Plus, the Venatosaurus (the Skull Island raptor) fits perfectly in the Lizar'ik jungles. It's agile, fast, intelligent, viscous, and downright awesome. Not to mention it is fucking huge, 16-24 feet long and roughly 10 to 11 feet tall, the perfect size to be a mount for the Saurous tribe.**

**I will be making some edits to previous chapters before I post this one. See if you can find them.**

**For those of you who are curious about the size of Lizar'ik, it is roughly the size of Australia, and is connected to a much larger continent around the size of Africa. However, the Serpent's Back Mountains separate it from the rest of the continent, its jagged and knife-like peaks forming an intimidating wall of stone. In general, Lizar'ik looks much like Skull Island from the 2005 King Kong movie, only it isn't sinking, it's larger, there are fewer grasslands, its flatter, and the jungles are thicker. If any of you have read the World of Kong book or looked up the king Kong wiki page, you will get a good picture of the terrain.**

**The ancient cities are places like Liz'ara. Cities filled with stone houses and great pyramids. Only eighteen useable cities remain, the rest are ruins, covered in various plants and home to many of Lizar'ik's animals, they can be found scattered all around Lizar'ik. These building are all that remain of those who first lived in Lizar'ik. Ten of the cities reside in the jungles of Lizar'ik, five in the Serpent's Back Mountains and three in and around the southern islands.**

**Liz'arin language**

**visca'ra'thûl – blood and fury**

**Nolvoc – demon, evil spirit, Liz'arin equivalent to a Shade, only more powerful. They are also very impulsive and will kill anything or anyone they come across in whatever way amuses them the most. No one knows how the twenty shamans were able to kill the first and so far only Nolvoc to take mortal form, but it is roughly the same way you kill a Shade, only you must aim for its stomach instead of its heart, for that is where it stores the souls it has eaten. (The voc rhymes with lock – Nole-vock)**

**Va mis thras cur'vat sa – I will tear you apart or I will rip you to pieces**

**On a side note: I think I forgot to write about the physical strength of the Liz'arin people. Saurous are inherently as strong as a Kull, but living in the dangerous confines of the Lizar'ik jungle have made them slightly stronger, they also have excellent reflexes, almost on par with that of an elf. They can run for vast distances at a steady pace or sprint short distances at the speed of a fast running elf (Keep in mind, these are short bursts and consume a lot of energy.). The Naga are the same upper body strength of the Saurous, but the real strength is in their tail. A Naga's tail ranges between 8 to 10 meters in length and has the strength to strangle a dragon or break every single bone in a Kull's body. As stated last chapter, Ga'goyle are much weaker than the other tribes, roughly having the same strength of a fit human. However, their leg and wing muscles are extremely strong despite their small frames.**

**Ris'ka has the magically enhanced strength of an elf, but her years spent in the jungle have added to her already superhuman strength. She is stronger, quicker, and more agile than any of the elves from Alagaësia. Also, Liz'arin have a multitude of exercise similar to what we use today to stay strong during peace times. These exercises include pull-ups, sit-ups, push-ups, tail-lifts, crunches, and many more. There are several more exercises that are exclusively for dragon Riders. One of which involves the dragon putting its paw over the Rider, and pressing down. The Rider will then push the paw up and down over a dozen or so times until they can lift no more. It's kind of like a shoulder and bench press combined, only standing up. **

**As always, please fav, follow, and review. Thank You!**

**DeadRich18 Out!**


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